La Petite Mort
by Werewolf Masquerade
Summary: It was inevitable that the spoiled princess' thrill-seeking ways would one day lead her astray, taking her down a path from which there would be no return. This is a story about an evil-aligned princess and our favorite deviant.
1. Chapter 1

Alrighty. This is my first ever upload to and I'm pretty nervous. I've been writing fanfiction for years and years, but never had the guts to upload a thing. Anyway, let's get down to it. This will likely be a slow go. I may not update often, but I'll certainly try.

As the summary suggests, this is a story about an evil princess. Well, she doesn't start out all that bad, but she's not your average princess, as you'll soon discover. This first chapter follows the first of the game very closely, but with our princess, whom I have dubbed Lyra, acting in a not so proper way. Also, there are a few changes that you will easily pick out.

* * *

A gunshot echoed throughout the garden, bouncing off of the castle's high walls and rousing the sleeping princess. Her thin brows knitted together in annoyance and she tugged the blankets higher up on her shoulder as she attempted to doze off again. Just when she thought she'd be able to grab a few more precious hours of sleep an exasperated sigh reached her reluctant ears. "What a dreadfully sorry sight," Jasper said, opening the heavy curtains and allowing hateful sunlight to spill across the room, "Such a beautiful day to waste in bed, don't you think?" Lyra groaned, trying to fight back the brightness by clenching her eyes shut as tightly as she could. The butler shook his head and moved on to the next window. "What? Oh, go away, Jasper." "Now that is hardly the response of a princess," he tsked, "I'm afraid it's time to rise. With your permission, I shall wake your sleeping companion, er, companions."

Without waiting for any permission at all, Jasper threw back the blankets to reveal a tangle of limbs and nude bodies, just as he had done numerous times in the past. "Ah, yes. One's heart soars before such regal bearing," he scowled disapprovingly at the hedonistic scene laid out before him. Empty bottles of wine and pipes no doubt laden with the residues of opium littered the mattress and the occupants of the bed appeared to be struggling with the consequences of such a thrilling night. The aged attendant spoke first to the three as a whole and then to the two groaning servants individually. "I trust you all slept well. You have a busy day ahead of you. Now, if you two would care to gather your items and vacate the room, you may return to your chores before your overseer realizes you've yet to show up for work." The maid and the gardener sluggishly rolled out of bed at Jasper's command, but not before receiving a playful slap on their backsides from the impish princess.

Jasper's lips pursed indignantly, but as always, he wouldn't put too much thought into Princess Lyra's behavior. Like many children who lose their parents at a young age, the princess had developed a rather nasty rebellious streak that could have only been quelled by caring, perhaps even a little overbearing, parents. Of course, she _was_ the daughter of the old Hero Queen, Sparrow; a famously headstrong and reckless individual who had her fair share of scandal during her rule. Like her mother had been, Lyra was young and adventurous, but rarely could she leave the castle to fulfill her wanderlust so she filled the void with debauchery. It wasn't the outlet he would have chosen or indeed one he thought appropriate for a member of the royal family, but who was he to scold the princess? She received enough chiding from her brother, the king, as well as her mentor, Sir Walter, on a daily basis and it had done little to steer her towards a more dignified role yet and he highly doubted that she'd take stock in an old butler's suggestions.

Once Lyra's bedfellows had departed the princess herself swung her legs off the bed and reached down to stroke the head of her only constant companion. The dog rolled over for a belly rub and yawned. "Come on, Boy. If I have to get up, so do you," the woman sighed, getting to her feet. Boy was more than just a reference to his gender, it was his actual name. Initially, Lyra had no desire to own a dog and had tried desperately to abandon him shortly after one of her many lovers gifted the animal to her. No matter how many times she had evicted the stubborn mutt from the castle grounds, he'd always managed to find his way back until at last he found his way into her rather guarded heart. Of course, it still didn't do anything to earn him a proper name and so he was simply branded 'Boy' upon becoming a permanent resident in Bowerstone Castle.

"It's not going to work. Don't look at me like that," said Jasper to the dog when it approached him for attention. Just as he had been so intent on Lyra becoming his mistress, Boy was determined to receive praise from the annoyed butler. The dog's big brown eyes were difficult to resist and even Jasper found himself reluctant to disappoint that cheerful little ball of fur. "Oh, very well. Good dog," the man said, petting Boy on the head, "What a pair... The kingdom is doomed." The princess chuckled as she slipped a robe on to cover her naked skin. She wasn't the shy type by any means, but the morning air was chilly and she could see that her attendant constantly had to avert his gaze to keep things respectful on his part. While amusing, it was slowing the day's progress terribly and so she stopped parading herself shamelessly before the aged butler and watched him move towards two mannequins he had set up near the fireplace.

"Now, Madam, if you will follow me, perhaps we can find some appropriate clothing for today's activities. Master Elliot," he paused as the princess let out an exasperated whine," Master Elliot is most eager to speak with you this morning and is waiting for you in the garden. No doubt you will wish to look your best for your fiancé. I have taken the liberty of arranging two suitable outfits, if you'd care to choose." Lyra reluctantly moved before the mannequins and tapped her chin in thought, trying to decide which suited her mood today. Jasper, meanwhile, waited patiently as he went over the woman's schedule. When she finally decided on the most elegant choice, the man nodded his approval. After last night's session of carnal bliss, Lyra was feeling incredibly superior and so when she slipped behind the changing screen to don the expensive clothes, she came out reflecting that sentiment appropriately.

With a knowing smirk, Jasper nodded again. "Ah, splendid choice. I'm sure Master Elliot will approve," he said, reminding her that she had to meet with him as she admired herself in the full length mirror, "Perhaps you ought to make your way to him now." Again the princess bemoaned her obligations to Elliot and, with shoulders slouched, moved towards the large, double doors. "And I would recommend avoiding your brother today. King Logan is rumored to be in an ill temper. Have a good day, Madam," the butler added as he went about tidying up the room. "Will do. Bye, Jasper" the princess said, taking her leave. Boy bounded along after his mistress, playfully barking at the doves perched along the balcony rails.

Lyra couldn't help but to roll her eyes at her attendant's recommendation. When was the king _not_ in an ill temper? And since when did she seek audience with him to begin with? In fact, one of her main priorities was to spend as little time around her despicable brother as possible. He did nothing but berate and criticize her lately anyway. Perhaps being the ruler supreme wasn't as glorious as she had always assumed it to be. Logan certainly conveyed the idea of it being a joyless, miserable role. It had been years since she'd seen him smile and even longer since he'd laughed. What kind of life was that? If she was the queen, and she would often laugh at the thought for being so absurd, Lyra would be a much more cheerful ruler. She wouldn't let the weight of the crown make her as sullen as her brother. And she certainly wouldn't take out her anger on, say, a younger sibling who only wanted to enjoy life while she was young.

However, as the princess strolled down the stone stairway and passed the stationed guards on her way to the garden, she entertained the idea that spending a few hours listening to her brother's incessant nagging would be more enjoyable than even a moment forcing polite smiles and having awkward conversations with her fiancé. Elliot had not been her choice for a husband. Instead, he had been chosen for her by her father before she was born. Even when he died, the Queen honored his wishes by making the official announcement that Lyra and Elliot were betrothed when the princess turned nine. In fact, that had been the Queen's final decree. Up until her mother died, Lyra was all too happy to wed the boy she'd played with since they were in diapers, but a cold seed of resentment took root in her heart after seeing her mother entombed.

Her eyes gazed upon the mausoleum as she passed and while her mother and father rested easy within, she was condemned to honor the decisions they had made. They had not been there to raise her. They had not been around to offer comfort when she was upset, or praise her when she had done right. The old king and queen had done nothing but decide their daughter's fate and then pass away; leaving the rest to others whose place it should not have been to rear their child. The tales Walter had told her when she was young about her mother's daring adventures made reality all the more painful. Lyra believed that she would never have the opportunity to experience the life of an adventurer, the life of a hero, thanks to them. Bitterly, she was aware that soon she and Elliot would be wed. This year would mark her twenty-first birthday and by year's end, she would find herself the wife of her childhood friend. It wasn't going to change her lifestyle, of course, but it would dampen her spirits nonetheless.

"Oh, fierce warrior, are you here to join my army?" Elliot's words broke her concentration and the princess realized that she had arrived at the back of the garden where he had been waiting. Boy jumped into the kneeling man's arms and licked his face affectionately, effectively showing him more attention romantically than Lyra ever had, while his mistress was busy passing a sly wink to the gardener she explored the previous night. The man blushed and nearly fell off of his stepladder trying to return the gesture with confidence. "Good. We shall face all our enemies together, won't we? Yes, we will. Yes, we will," Elliot chuckled, bringing the princess' full attention back to him. "Then the kingdom is safe," she said surprisingly without sarcasm. Though, admittedly, she was referring to the dog's ability to protect it rather than her fiancé's. He'd proven himself to be useless with weapons on several occasions and it was something she, for some reason, actually found quite endearing. It didn't change the fact that she was loathe to be his wife, of course.

"Ah, our fair princess. Your two brave knights will protect you with their lives," Elliot grinned. She smirked in return and told him what he already knew very well. "I can take care of myself, you know." "Really? I'm afraid I'll need some proof. Perhaps you can give me a demonstration of your abilities?" Oh how she would love to take him into the training room and give him a real demonstration. Walter had been training her with sword and pistol for a few years now and she was taking to it faster than even she thought possible. However, she knew that Elliot was merely making an attempt to be charming and get a little show of affection from his betrothed. So, she decided to throw him a bone, as they say, and stepped up to him for a kiss. He was surprised, to say the least. Elliot was fully aware of just how much she dreaded their upcoming wedding and he even knew about her promiscuous romps with the servants and visiting nobles alike. He was understandably confused by her decision to kiss him, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth when hers was oh so enticing.

"How's that," she asked, playfully rapping him on the shoulder when she saw the dreamy expression on his face. "That's… I'd have to say that's quite satisfactory." Lyra giggled and clasped her hands behind her back. When he finally snapped out of his slight daze, Elliot seemed to remember that he had a reason for wanting to meet with the princess. "I thought you'd never get up. Did Jasper tell you I wanted to speak to you?" "Yes," she said, taking on a more serious expression to mirror his, "Did something happen?" "I'm not sure, but everyone in the castle seems to be upset with your brother. More than usual." The princess frowned, hardly believing it was possible for the staff to be _more_ upset than usual when it came to the king. He'd done everything from lowering their wages to cutting down on the size of their rooms, after all. Most of them were sleeping three to a bed these days, not that that was something Lyra saw any problem with considering her usual sleeping arrangements.

"And it's even worse down in the city," he added, turning and stepping up on the railing to peer over into Bowerstone Industrial, "You hear such terrible stories. Listen, they say a factory worker was executed this morning. I'm sure it's only a rumor, but you can imagine how people are talking." The princess joined him on the railing, but she was only barely listening to the man. Instead, her mind wandered towards the time she actually walked the streets below without a royal escort. It was one of the highlights of her life, as sad as that sounds, and the events of that unscheduled visit actually influenced her behavior from that day forward. Lyra had been punished accordingly for her little disappearing act, of course, and her matron at the time had been executed for failing in her duties, but the princess regretted nothing. And if that was to be the _only_ highlight of her miserable existence, she was even more pleased that she had decided to run away that day five years ago.

* * *

Next chapter coming soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, here's Chapter 2. Actually, I'm not really writing this story in proper chapters and I'm just breaking it up into acceptable portions as I go. Anyway, a few things to mention. In my little world, I'm assuming my princess to be 20 (during this chapter she'd be around 15, though) and she's still a brunette, but I gave her blue eyes in my story. I dunno why. Just did. :P Also, I know the game makes it seem like the prince/princess and the old Hero King/Queen maybe never met or at least not when the prince/princess was old enough to remember it, but as discovered in the first chapter, my princess' mother died when she was nine and her father died even before that. Bleh, anyway, I guess that's it for this author's note. Enjoy!

* * *

Princess Lyra, dressed in a commoner's frock, slipped past her governess with surprising ease. When she had convinced Eliza that she absolutely _had_ to treat herself to a new hairdo while they were visiting Bowerstone Market on one of those rare occasions when Logan permitted it, she didn't really expect her plan to go so smoothly. Yet the adolescent princess had managed to both talk her guardian _into_ getting a completely ridiculous haircut and talk the stylist's assistant _out_ of her clothes - something she'd become quite skilled in doing later on. And, once Eliza was seated and having her hair manipulated into an absurdly tall beehive, relaxed by the barber's magic-weaving fingers, the girl switched clothes with the commoner and walked stiffly out into the street. When Eliza didn't call after her, demanding that she come back at once, her shoulders slouched in relief and she settled into a more casual pace.

Now that she was strolling incognito, Lyra could barely contain her giggles each time she passed someone and they didn't bow their head respectfully or mumble their polite greetings. Everyone treated her as an equal, for better or for worse. One man even bumped into her and cursed at her as if it had been her fault, which only made her all the more excited. Leaving the man confused as to why the girl he just yelled at appeared to enjoy his rant, the princess skipped away towards Bowerstone Industrial. That's where all the interesting people were, she had heard, and she wanted to see if she could find out just how interesting they were in person. Maybe, just to stick it in her brother's craw, she'd find some of those rebels she'd heard so much about and, masquerading as a fellow oppressed citizen, offer them her assistance. As a naïve blue-blood, Lyra thought it would all make for an entertaining game that really wouldn't harm or benefit anyone in the end.

So, the minute the princess entered Industrial, she kept her eyes and ears open for any sign of the resistance. It wasn't long before she realized how very futile her efforts were. Of course the rebels weren't so stupid that they sat out on the streets discussing their plans to overthrow the king and she couldn't help but laugh at herself for thinking they would. Inevitably she ended up at The Riveter's Rest instead, a pub and apparently the only place of interest in all of Industrial. There was the shelter and orphanage, but it was completely depressing. Even though she was dressed in a poor girl's frock, the homeless still held their hands out to her as she passed and the orphans all begged to be adopted. She wasn't prepared to deal with either. It wasn't like she carried any gold and she certainly wasn't ready for parenthood. Besides, if she didn't have parents, why should they?

Inside The Riveter's Rest, Lyra found that even in the slums a young girl couldn't get a drink. Logan's laws pertaining to alcohol were quite strict, but she didn't expect them to be so obediently observed in a place like this. Disappointed again. The princess was beginning to wonder if running away had even been worth the effort. If she had wanted this kind of treatment, she could have stayed in the castle. However, being in the pub did eventually pay off and Lyra found that through eavesdropping a girl her age was more likely to obtain information than if she were to walk up to someone and ask them to share gossip. The first interesting bit she picked up with the potential for excitement involved a man named Nigel Ferret who was, at that very moment, doing something seedy in a house nearby. The details were understandably vague, but she was able to determine that someone was being shaken down for money and she wanted to see just how such a thing played out.

The alleys were a bit filthier than Lyra expected, but she managed to navigate them despite the overcrowding of boxes and garbage on her way to the hideout the man in the pub had so foolishly let slip the location of. Upon arrival on the backside of the house, the princess could hear muffled words coming from a window roughly three heads above her own. She sighed, lips pursing as her hands went to her hips. If only she could reach the window, she might see and hear what sinister activities were taking place within. It became somewhat of an obsession since her escape from the matron's watchful eye was beginning to seem like a fruitless endeavor.

Nearby a crate from one of the local factories caught her eye. Perhaps with that and by use of her tip-toes, she might reach the window after all. The princess grinned and dragged it over into position with some difficulty. Even with the added boost and straining herself, Lyra's eyes barely peeked over the sill, but it was enough. She could see everything and better yet, hear everything. Unfortunately the teen only witnessed one man, who was tied to a chair and already looking thoroughly beaten, being slapped across the face by someone standing over him before there was a noise further down the alley behind her. Someone was coming and she could hear the distinct tap of a cane that accompanied each step. The first thing that entered her mind was a member of some search party that had been organized to locate the missing princess.

Lyra dropped down from the crate and whirled around, putting on her most convincing mask of innocence. "Well," an unnaturally tall, finely dressed man smirked, "I never expected to see someone like _you_ skulking around the slums. And in such an unbecoming outfit, no less." The princess lowered her eyes and clasped her hands behind her back. This man had obviously recognized her as the king's sister and now, she feared, her little adventure was drawing to a close. He would surely escort her back to the castle where she would receive no less than three hours of her brother's ranting and then likely be sentenced to a week confined to her quarters. Even then, she was thinking it was worth it just to taste the smog-laden air of freedom for a few hours.

However, instead of pinching her ear and dragging her out of the alley, the stranger seemed displeased by her silence and tapped his cane impatiently against the pavement to get her attention. She looked up, peering out from beneath her bangs in confusion. "You don't really expect me to believe that you don't recognize me, do you? My dear, that's impossible unless you've been living under a rock," he said, tilting his chin upwards so that he could stare down his nose at the teenager coldly. Perhaps he didn't realize who she was after all, but apparently he believed she should recognize him which only made things worse. She had no clue who he was or why he was bothering her if he didn't plan on sending her back to the castle. "Well," he sniffed indignantly, perhaps assuming her to be dull-witted, "No matter. I'm sure that pretty face gets you by just fine in life. In fact…"

Lyra's eyes narrowed as she frowned deeply at the stranger, which only caused him to grin. How dare he speak to her that way? Well, she _was_ trying to look like a peasant, after all, and he was obviously one of those snobbish aristocrats she would often find leering at her in the castle. "I have an interesting proposition for you, my little sweet. How would you like to experience a life of glamour and riches? Wouldn't you like to remove yourself from the squalor of these streets and become a lady of refinement?" As he spoke, the man came closer and closer until he loomed over the young girl. Instead of retreating, the princess stared up at him as if intrigued. Of course, she was already living the life most peasants could only dream of, however boring it was.

The princess flinched as he ran a gloved finger along her jaw line and then lifted her chin. "How would you like to have the Reaver life," he grinned. Lyra's eyes widened dramatically and she hopped backwards to remove herself form his proximity. He quirked a brow, his hand lingering in the air before propping itself on his hip. "Reaver!" The girl's hands covered her gaping mouth as she regarded the man excitedly. Though he had formerly been offended that she didn't recognize his chiseled good looks, he was consoled by the fact that she had indeed heard of him and dipped his head in mock modesty. "The one and only," he said, rapping his cane against the pavement again, "Now, why not tell me your name, my dear?" She stared at him in awe for a few moments more before a grin spread onto her lips. Never in a million years had she expected to run into someone so famous, so interesting, much less someone who had visited the castle numerous times but whom she had been barred from meeting. Logan would be positively irate if he knew, not that he would need the extra incentive considering she'd slipped away from her matron to visit the city's most dangerous district.

Lyra straightened herself and cheerfully replied, "My name is- -" "Princess! Princess, where are you!" The less than sultry voice of her guardian cut her off from somewhere behind and she squeaked, leaping forward to cower behind Reaver. "Princess," he guffawed, calmly peering over his shoulder at the girl now clinging to his coat tails. He would have shot anyone else, especially a peasant, but he realized now that he wasn't dealing with a commoner. So much for his plans to deposit this girl in the local prostitution racket, after sampling her goods first for himself, of course. "Shh! Not so loud," she hissed up at him, blue eyes pleading. The man rolled his own and then looked towards the end of the alley where, on the street outside, a distressed woman passed by calling for her missing ward. Once she was gone, Reaver deftly spun around on his heel to face the teen.

Looking up at him, the girl breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't want to return to the castle," she huffed, crossing her arms and pouting. Reaver smirked, a myriad of alternatives crossing his mind. "What a naughty little child you are, running away like that," he cooed, patting the crown of her head lightly, "King Logan would be most upset if his darling sister disappeared… or worse. I'm sure he'd pay handsomely to have you returned unharmed and, hehe, unspoiled." The princess gasped and then scowled, her cheeks flushing with anger. "Hmph! The stories I've heard about you are completely true, I see. You're nothing but a greedy degenerate. And I was so enthralled by the more daring feats I had heard of as a child. How disappointing to find you're not the adventurous hero, but instead just the corrupt business man all the servants in the castle whisper about." It was a rant that would have made her brother proud. She found herself sickened by the thought and quickly apologized despite Reaver's apparent amusement. "I'm not sure where that came from. I'm sorry," she said, fidgeting with the hem of her frock.

The man shrugged and waved a hand through the air as if to dismiss any ill will between them. "Obviously you were offended that I considered dragging you kicking and screaming back to the king. I highly doubt any reward he could muster would be quite as rewarding as your company, my dear Princess." With all the allure of a conman, Reaver caused Lyra to blush. She'd never been treated quite so maturely and she had to admit, she liked it. "How disappointing that you will inevitably have to return to that stuffy old castle. I'd go positively mad if I had to spend more than a few hours there. No parties, no drinking, no excitement whatsoever. How dull," he sighed, "And the king is a great bore." The princess nodded slowly, hanging on his every word. At that moment she began to see Reaver not as a despicable man of sin, but instead as a man who exemplified freedom. He didn't just go through the motions of life, he really _lived_. The tales her mother had told her about the eternally youthful pirate weren't even the half of it. He made every day an adventure by indulging in life's pleasures and disregarding the rules and regulations that governed other people's lives. That's the kind of life she wanted.

"Ah, well," Reaver said, snapping her out of her thoughts as he flipped open his pocket watch, "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have other obligations. Do give my regards to your brother, won't you?" With those parting words, the man took her hand and bent down to kiss her knuckles lightly. He left her with a smile and a wave, strolling out onto the busy streets and disappearing into the crowd moments before Eliza turned down the very same alley. The princess recovered quickly from the wave of heat that had hit her when Reaver kissed her hand and tried to escape. Surprisingly, the matron was faster than she looked even with that absurd hairdo weighing her down and caught Lyra by the collar of her dress. "There ye are, ye little delinquent! I knew I'd find ye around here somewhere," Eliza growled, struggling to keep a firm hold on the princess. "Gah, I was only having some fun! Not so rough! I'm still your princess, you know!" "I'm taking ye back to the castle this instant. I'm sure his highness'll lock ye up in that room o' yours for quite some time, missy." The governess then dragged her fidgeting ward out of the alley and towards the stony prison looming in the distance.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and stay tuned for Chapter 3. It'll be flying at ya soon! Also, reviews will let me know if I should keep going or not. ;D I'd like to know how people like it, if they do, and perhaps even some constructive criticism would be nice.


	3. Chapter 3

And here we have chapter three. I'd like to thank Dinsoku for the very kind review on my last chapter and I hope you'll find this chapter just as enjoyable. We're still following the first part of the game pretty closely here and I know that might be a little boring to some of you readers, but this fanfiction does take place during the main storyline, after all, so it's going to have to follow closely sometimes. The whole thing won't be this way, I promise. Just like chapter two, there's going to be some original storylines in here too. In fact, after the next chapter I'm hoping things will take off a bit. Lyra might be a little naughty so far, but she'll soon take a turn down a much darker path.

* * *

It was hardly an hour after Lyra had been forced back to the castle that her matron received the death penalty. She could remember clearly the look of shock and outrage on her brother's face when she told him that Reaver sent his greetings. She'd said it only to annoy her older sibling, but she hadn't expected things to play out the way they did. Understandably, all sorts of things ran through his mind and Eliza's punishment likely wouldn't have been so harsh if his sister's purity hadn't been put at risk by the matron's neglect. Lyra had initially been inconsolable over her guardian's execution, but as she began to indulge in the things she had previously shunned as inappropriate, just as her upbringing had taught her to do, her guilt gave way to indifference.

The princess had first started to spend late nights drinking with the staff. Then, as the servants grew more accustomed to their lady's new devious side, they introduced her to the more exotic substances. Eventually, she even gave into the sins of the flesh. The man she was currently standing next to had been her first. It had been an awkward and tender moment for both of them, but Lyra had only wanted to experiment before choosing a proper lover. It was only after sampling the experience with Elliot that she realized she had a taste for the obscene. She took several lovers to sate her appetite, finding that one man, or woman, could not truly satisfy her idea of a pleasurable romp. Her lips curled lightly as she remembered the first time Jasper came into her room and found, instead of the usual one, three bedfellows. Avo bless him, he didn't approve, but he hadn't said a word other than to suggest that Lyra's companions return to their duties. It became somewhat of a morning ritual after that, whenever she had company, and the princess thought it was a good system.

Elliot, seeming to notice that Lyra's mind was elsewhere, turned and stepped down from the railing. "The staff in the castle are anxious. I told them you'd speak to them. Will you do that? I'm afraid of what might happen if someone doesn't calm things down," he said, helping her down after him. The princess nodded, reluctantly pulling her thoughts out of the gutter to acknowledge him. "If you think it will help." "I do. They may fear the king, but they still care for their princess." She grinned, thinking to herself that he had no idea just how much they cared for her. "So, my good princess, may I take your hand and escort you to the castle? Everyone's waiting for you." Lyra nodded, smirking at his chivalry, and placed her hand in his.

"Good," Elliot smiled, leading his fiancée towards the kitchens, "Now let's go." The princess strolled beside her betrothed, their hands firmly clasped, and as they passed the gardeners and visiting nobles, she would wink playfully or blow a kiss to each one she had slept with. Elliot would have to be blind indeed not to notice his companion's behavior, but he'd be a fool to call her on it. He'd learned long ago that chiding the girl, even gently, only drove her to do things far worse than whatever it was he found inappropriate at the time. So, he simply drew her attention by bringing up the one thing she would listen to. "I can't believe your brother would have a worker executed. But sometimes I think… Well, that there's something wrong with him. He's changed so much. And he looks so tired all the time," he said. "Obviously you don't recall how he had my governess executed when I ran away. She'd been employed here for years. It isn't really surprising that he might have someone he's never met killed if they did something he didn't like."

The man nodded, realizing that she was probably right. Logan's transformation into a tyrant didn't happen over night. For five long years now he'd been growing more and more oppressive to the people. It was becoming harder to remember that he was once a more benevolent ruler. "I told Sir Walter about the speech. He'll be there to support you. I don't know what this place would be like without him," Elliot said, changing the subject. "Aah, Sir Walter," Lyra grinned, "Yes, he does make my existence a slightly more pleasant one. Learning to fight has given me a much needed vent for my frustrations." The man chuckled and nodded again. "I'm sure he'll want to carry on with your instructions today. He seems obsessed with combat training lately." "Hmm, yeah, he does. Maybe I'm just getting that good!"

Elliot and Lyra shared a laugh before coming to a halt just outside the scullery. She had tugged him back when she heard voices and wanted to see what was being said. Boy, unable to contain his excited whimpering, was ordered back out into the gardens by his mistress, much to his dismay. He skulked away, looking back only once before dutifully obeying. "Well, I heard all he did was stand up for one of the kids working in the factory," Bryn muttered. Sarah frowned deeply and nodded. "Who knows where it ends. Next thing you know it's one of us that's - -" "Quit your gossiping now," the steward commanded, "And straighten those clothes." The servants quickly did as told when the princess and her fiancé stepped into the kitchen. "Welcome, your majesty. Such an honor to have you here today. The staff have convened to hear your words. Whenever you're ready." Lyra dipped her head to the steward and stood before the small group. She'd give them a speech, if only to keep Elliot from worrying so much.

"You are all privileged to work in the castle," Lyra said firmly, "But I know you've all been through some difficult times. The king has been too… preoccupied to treat you as he should, but you have standards to live up to and I expect you to always do your best, no matter what the cost. I'll speak to my brother about improving conditions for both you and your families outside the castle. In the meantime, I will not tolerate any unrest or the spreading of wild rumors. Now back to work." She meant every word of that speech. Well, almost. She had no intentions of speaking to the king for any reason, but to promise as much would help the servants get past these rumors. It would make no difference either way. Logan wasn't likely to improve anything for anyone, especially not at his sister's request. "You call that a royal speech? You didn't shout, you didn't threaten, and you were far too reasonable," came Walter's stern voice from the doorway.

Lyra and Elliot turned to face the old knight as the staff went about their duties. The princess scowled at his words. Couldn't she do anything right? Walter then chuckled, losing his own grimace. "It was bloody marvelous," he said, eyes sparkling. Smiling, the woman's spirits were immediately lifted. To receive praise from her mentor meant the world to Lyra even though she usually didn't show it. He was the closest thing she had to a father and while she sometimes found him to be a bit overbearing, she certainly appreciated having him around. It was nice to have someone looking out for your best interests, just like a parent. "Well then," Walter said, clapping his hands together, "Ready for today's training?" "Certainly," she nodded, moving towards the stairs after him.

"Take good care of her, Walter," Elliot said, waving to the pair as he headed back to the gardens. There was a time when he would join in the lessons, but he found lately that Lyra was far too competitive. The moment a sword was in her hand, she became a different person. It was as if she and Walter had some secret motives behind the training, but he didn't know what it could be. "I suppose you heard the rumors then," Walter began, leading the princess towards the main foyer, "Well, I'm afraid they're quite true. Who knows what your brother will do next. In the mean time, the mood in the castle is getting more uneasy by the day. I can't say I quite agree with everything you told the staff, but... I must admit, they all listened to you very carefully. The way they would listen to a leader." Lyra paused, staring after her mentor as he continued on ahead. A leader? What was the old man going on about now?

Before the princess could question Walter on what he meant, they reached the foyer where there was a crowd being carefully monitored by royal guards. "A lot of people to see your brother today. Poor sods," the man muttered. "Sir Walter! What a stroke of luck! Would you be so kind as to sign my petition? We must fight to eradicate poverty in Albion. Too many suffer on our streets and the king does nothing. He must be made to care." Lyra quirked a brow at the eager man as he flagged Walter down. The knight scratched the back of his neck, seeming to find it just as odd as his young protégé. "Oh, very well, but I'm just an old soldier. I doubt my name would mean anything, but perhaps the princess here would care to help you out." The princess cringed, narrowing her eyes at Walter. Why did he have to put her on the spot like that?

"Oh, th-that would be wonderful, your majesty," the petitioner smiled, holding out the clipboard to Lyra, "It would be the greatest honor." The princess eyed the paper before her and chewed her lower lip lightly. Putting one's name on a paper if you weren't the reigning monarch would do little to change things. She considered doing several things and none of those things included putting a signature on that petition, but with Walter being only a few feet away she decided against anything rude. So, she put on her sweetest smile and took the pen. "I'd be happy to sign," she said, leaning in to quickly scribble her name. "Thank you, my princess. Your support will make all the difference. I'm certain of it," the man said. Lyra dipped her head politely. She was, of course, thinking that the only difference it would make would be to make her brother even angrier when he received word of it. Perhaps that made it worth it after all.

"That was a courageous move. I doubt it will make much difference, but perhaps your brother will finally realize you have a mind of your own," Walter said as they moved past the crowd, "Let's see you put it to good use in the combat room. Come on." Lyra followed, having second thoughts on her choice of clothing for the day as they neared their destination. The elegant gown wouldn't hinder her movements all that much, but she thought she would certainly look funny in it swinging a sword. "You have made good progress these past few weeks, but today isn't about practice. I want you to fight me. As if your life depended on it." The girl paused again just inside the door. Maybe Elliot was right. Maybe Walter was becoming obsessed with this training business.

"Go ahead, take a sword," the knight said, gesturing towards the rack of weapons. Lyra reluctantly moved forth and took up a blade she was familiar with. Walter unsheathed his sword and nodded towards his student. "Alright. Fight!" The girl immediately lunged forward. She wasn't without her reservations, but she couldn't very well deny her urges when it came to a fight. All their previous sessions had been purely training and she had gotten very good, but things were always safe. The princess was interested to see how she would do in a real fight with the seasoned warrior in front of her. "Do you remember the stories I'd tell you when you were a child? Of your mother, the great Hero Queen," he asked as their blades clashed violently, "You'd never get tired of hearing those stories. And after each one, do you remember what you would say?"

Lyra swung her blade again, steel meeting steel. Perhaps she hadn't advanced as much as she thought if Walter could carry on a conversation while she was fighting with all her might. She blocked the knight's arcing sword with a grunt and then smirked. "Teach me how to be a hero!" The man laughed and nodded, parrying another blow with ease despite his age. "Heh, every single time. I wish that was something an old soldier like me could teach you, but I've done my best," he said, backing off and pointing his blade at her, "Now I need you to do your best. Strike me! It's time you showed me what you've got!" Lyra frowned, confused by Walter's request and his apparent eagerness to prepare her for something he had neglected to tell her about. Still, she tightened her grip on the hilt of her weapon and charged forth. With an elegant flourish that even the knight hadn't thought her capable of, she sliced clean through his blade.

"Ha ha! You only went and broke it! Look at that! Am I a great teacher or what," Walter said, holding his destroyed weapon up for her to see. He smiled at the princess as she regarded her work with wide eyes. "Listen, there's something- -" "Walter!" Elliot burst through the double doors, drawing both of their attentions with a start. "You have to come quickly. Both of you!" "What's happened?" The younger man turned towards the hallway behind him and then waved the pair over. "Outside the castle. It looks like a demonstration," he said, panting. Lyra's brow furrowed at the interruption. So the peasants were getting worked up outside. It didn't seem like something that concerned them. In fact, it seemed to be her brother's business. "This is not good," the knight said, his wrinkled face contorting with worry as he moved to follow Elliot. With a sigh, the princess dropped her sword carelessly to the combat room floor and fell in line behind the two men.


	4. Chapter 4

**And here we have Chapter 4. I'll go ahead and admit that I'm not thrilled with this one, but it was necessary. I think it didn't turn out that great because I didn't really want to write it. :P I was thinking ahead to future chapters and wanted to write those instead. Oh well. Next chapter won't be out until after Thanksgiving so an early Happy Turkey Day to you folks actually reading this.**

* * *

The trio headed towards the foyer, Elliot and Walter's pace a bit hastier than the leisurely strolling princess. "They're right inside the castle grounds. I've never seen so many people out there." "Balls," the knight grumbled, looking at Lyra over his shoulder as he walked, "I should have known this would happen. I don't think they realize what your brother is capable of. This isn't going to end well." Upon reaching the large windows at the front of the entrance hall they could already hear the roaring crowd outside and it was clear that this was no ordinary protest. The angry people in the courtyard meant business as they yelled for justice and made their grievances known through chants. The princess, for the first time since her fiancé interrupted the sparring session, began to think the situation might actually be serious. Of course, she still wasn't quite sure why _she_ should be concerned.

Walter sighed as he watched the crowd, his wrinkled brow furrowing while he stroked his graying goatee thoughtfully. "It's been a long time since Logan listened to me," he said, turning to Lyra and Elliot, "But I should find him. Stay here." The man reached out to his protégé and put a hand on her shoulder. She frowned, not liking the serious look in his eyes as he squeezed gently. "There's still something we need to talk about." And with that, Walter was gone, moving quickly towards the stairs. Since when was a protest cause for such worry? Sure the number of people barking at the door was greater than it had ever been before, but the old knight couldn't possibly think anyone inside the castle was in any danger. Those people were nothing but commoners from the look of them and they'd easily be dispatched if they tried to storm the castle.

Once Walter was out of sight, Elliot cast one more worried glance at the crowd outside and tugged Lyra's sleeve. "I have a horrible feeling about this," he said, "We can't just stand here. We need to do something." "Like what? Do you want me to go outside and try to calm those ignorant peasants? Elliot, let Logan and Walter deal with it," the princess replied scornfully, jerking her silken sleeve from his grip. The man was surprised by her callousness and took a step back. He sighed, wishing that just this once she might show a little compassion for her people and a little faith in him as well. She turned away to watch the protestors, her decision to stay out of the whole affair seemingly quite firm. "You know, you avoid Logan like the plague, but sometimes I think you're starting to act like him," he frowned.

Just as Elliot predicted, that got Lyra's attention. Her head whipped around so fast that he thought it had to have been a painful motion. "I'm _nothing_ like him," she hissed through her teeth, poking a finger at his chest as if to get her point across. The man put his hands up defensively and smirked. He was about to offer up the similarities he had observed lately when something heavy struck the double doors nearby. The pair turned together to see what had happened and found the guards moving away from the stairs to investigate the noise as well. Apparently one of the more daring dissidents had lobbed something at the castle. Elliot knew that this was their only chance and took Lyra's hand. "Look, the guards have moved away from the stairs. We should follow Walter, find out what Logan's going to do. Let's go while we can," he pleaded.

The princess resisted when her betrothed tried to pull her along and glared at him when he turned to see what kept her. "Take it back," she demanded, pulling her hand out of his. Elliot clenched his jaw tightly, stubbornly refusing to retract his former statement until Lyra's brows knitted and the corner of her mouth twitched downward. It was clearly a warning and he'd seen it before on several occasions. She'd given him that same look first a few years ago when he had refused to admit to one of his friends that Lyra had beaten him at chess. It had earned him a push down five steps and a bloody nose. Ever since then he knew that the princess was being deadly serious whenever she made that face. "You're nothing like him," he ceded, bowing his head slightly.

Satisfied, Lyra looked out the window and then towards the stairs. Shaking her head with a smirk, she offered Elliot her hand. "They must be in the War Room," she said. The man's eyes brightened as he took her waiting hand and smiled. "Then let's get there before anyone sees us," he nodded, pulling her towards the stairs and then sprinting. Though Lyra had given in to her fiancé's plan to spy on her brother, she still found the entire thing quite pointless. So while he ran on ahead, she took her time. When she caught up, he was already pressed up against the doors to the War Room, watching the scene inside. Elliot turned and waved her over saying, "Quick, you can see them."

Lyra paused, mulling the whole thing over once more before giving in to curiosity and stepping up beside her fiancé. She lowered her eye to the keyhole and peered inside. "Think about what you're doing, Logan," Walter said, flanked by two armed guards. Logan's face twisted into a scowl as the older man pleaded with him. "I'm protecting the interests of the people. Do not question me again," he warned before turning to one of the royal guards, "You will shoot to kill. Start with the ringleaders, and if necessary, continue with the crowd." The knight's jaw dropped at his king's cruelty. He shook his head in disbelief before trying once more to convince Logan that he was out of line. "This is wrong, you can't do this."

No sooner had those words left his mouth, the king turned to one of his men and gestured towards Walter. The soldier swiftly obeyed his orders and jabbed the butt of his rifle against the back of the older man's legs. Falling to the floor on hands and knees, the knight painfully raised his eyes to regard Logan coldly. "Never tell me what I can't do," the scowling monarch told him. Outside the room, Elliot gasped. He would have never thought the king capable of inflicting such abuse upon his own advisor. Lyra, on the other hand, found herself outraged rather than shocked. It was one thing to be cruel to his people, the castle staff, and even his own sister, but quite another to disrespect a great warrior like Walter.

The princess heard her betrothed mumble the knight's name beside her and turned towards him. Elliot's troubled gaze fell upon her in return as he stepped back from the door. "We can't let him kill all those people. You're his sister, maybe he'll listen to you," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, "We have to do something." Lyra's jaw clenched tightly as she frowned, staring blankly at the floor. She didn't care about the people outside the castle, not even a little bit, but Walter, yes, she cared deeply for him and she'd never realized just how much until seeing him crumple before her loathsome brother. How could Logan dare to treat someone who had been a constant in their lives since they were children so inhumanely? If the king could respect and acknowledge anyone, it should be Watler.

Lyra balled her fists and looked to the door, deciding that her fiancé was right. She had to do something. Forgoing all caution she placed her hand on the latch and pushed it. All eyes turned on her as she flung the door open and stepped in with Elliot on her heels. "What are you doing here? The War Room is no place for a child. Leave now," Logan commanded. The princess stood her ground, causing the corner of the king's eye to twitch at her audacity. "I'm here to stop you," she replied, her eyes falling momentarily to the prone Walter, "You… can't kill those people." Lyra knew that her mentor would never forgive her if she came bursting in to save him from the king's harsh treatment, but surely he would be proud of her if she tried to stand up for the peasants. He was always going on about protecting the weak, after all. Unfortunately, from the mortified expression on Walter's face, she was wrong.

"No, wait - -" He tried desperately to keep the situation from escalating, but Logan cut him off, his own pride insulted by Lyra's words. "Enough," he growled, stepping closer to his sister, "How dare you turn against me? Perhaps you believe you should be the one making these decisions. You really wish to defend those traitors?" The princess gazed up at him defiantly, every muscle aching to strike him across his smug face. Seeming to sense that hidden urge in her quivering frame, the king smirked down at her and lifted his arm. Lyra braced herself, expecting to feel the quick sting of his hand against her cheek, but he instead made a fist. "Then so be it," he said, the guards immediately surrounding his sister and Elliot, "Let us see how you do. Take my sister and her friend to the throne room. We shall settle this matter officially." Logan then turned, stroking his chin thoughtfully as the two were dragged away.

Lyra gritted her teeth as the armed escorts prodded and shoved her down the hall with their rifles. Beside her, Elliot wasn't fairing much better and struggled to keep with the pace they wanted. "Move!" The young man flinched as the guard behind him barked the order and looked over his shoulder innocently. "I'm going," he said, only to be pushed roughly to the ground, "What- -? Oof!" The princess paused and kneeled beside her fallen companion. Her own escort jabbed her with his weapon when she stopped, urging her to keep going. She bolted upwards and turned on the guard, pushing him back a few feet. "Touch me like that again and I'll shove that gun so far down your throat I'll be able to bend you over and shoot _him_ out your arse," she warned, gesturing towards the guard standing over Elliot. The man sneered behind his visor but said nothing, trained to ignore such threats and hold his tongue. He did keep his rifle to himself from that point on, however.

Narrowing her eyes at the guard, Lyra turned her attention back to Elliot who was just then getting to his feet. She stooped to help him, but he shrugged off her assistance. "I'm alright, I'm alright," he said, not wanting her to get herself into any more trouble. Of course, at this point he wouldn't mind seeing her follow through with the threat she had used on the guard. They were being unnecessarily rough and Elliot began to wonder if Logan had finally snapped. Was he actually going to punish his younger sister just for trying to help the innocent people outside? And that was another thing. When did Lyra care enough about something like that to stand up to her brother the way she did? Though he had convinced her to confront the king, he had expected her to make light of the situation, only going through with it to make Logan angry the way she'd done several times in the past. Instead, Elliot saw a woman determined and sincere.

"Don't worry," Lyra said, taking Elliot's hand, "Whatever happens, it can't be that bad. It's not like I haven't been in trouble before." He nodded as they continued forward into the throne room though he doubted her words. She'd been in trouble dozens of times before, yes, but she'd never been escorted to her brother by armed guards. They weren't being treated like two children in for a scolding; they were being treated like prisoners heading for their trial. When Elliot saw the way Logan was sitting on his throne, he was almost certain it _was_ some sort of trial. Walter was standing dutifully at the monarch's side, but his aged features were contorted into a mask of worry and dread. It was yet another sign that things were far more serious than Lyra thought, though perhaps she was aware of that all along.

"Here come the saviors of the people," the king smirked coldly as the pair stopped before him, "Come closer, sister." Lyra boldly moved forward, despite Elliot's hesitation to release her hand. She would not back down from him no matter what and she certainly wouldn't cower before him. He was not only the king, but also her older brother; even so, she had never been afraid of him and she wasn't going to start now. "Today you have disappointed me beyond measure. I have been betrayed by my own blood," he told her in an exasperated tone before glaring at her fiancé, "And a filthy spy." Elliot shook his head and announced their innocence desperately. "We did nothing wrong!" The king stood up from his throne and ignored the plea as his attention turned back to his sister. "Punishment must be apportioned where it belongs." "Punish me then," she said impatiently.

Logan's eyes narrowed on the girl. Even he seemed surprised by this apparently selfless act, but the princess knew that her punishment would be less severe than the others involved. Whatever it was, she thought, it would be better than seeing Walter put through further humiliation. The king stepped forward, moving closer to his sister as he spoke, his eyes never leaving her. "You are no longer a child, and it is time I stopped treating you as one. You wished to save the traitors who had gathered outside the castle this morning," he said, gesturing towards three peasants being guarded nearby, "Very well. You shall have your chance to save them." Lyra turned to regard the whimpering ringleaders with a frown. She sighed and looked back to her brother as he slowly descended the pedestal stairs.

"Here stand the leaders of the violent mob. I will give you a choice. Who will be punished. These strangers, or this boy. The sentence will be death," Logan announced callously as he glared at Elliot. Lyra stiffened, not believing her ears. "What!" Her fiancé was just as confused by the turn of events. He anticipated imprisonment, manual labor, even exile, but not death. "No…" he stuttered, "This can't be…" The monarch turned from Elliot to face Lyra, gesturing towards her as he said, "You are the princess. Decide." She was still struggling to make sense of the situation when Walter staggered forth and addressed the king urgently. "Your majesty, Logan. Please." Just like Elliot, the old knight was ignored. Logan's focus was solely on his sibling. "I am giving you the power over life and death," he told her.

Lyra turned from her brother, her head swimming from the weight of her decision. After Logan's command had first sunk in, she thought the decision would be easy. She had nearly condemned the ringleaders without hesitation, but some dark suggestion from deep in her thoughts held her tongue. Elliot was her fiancé, but… she didn't love him; not the way a woman should love the man she was to marry. Their wedding was only a few months away and she still felt sick to her stomach even thinking about becoming his wife. No, she couldn't possibly. Could she? The princess wrestled with her thoughts and Logan, seeing his sister struggling with the matter, gave her some extra incentive to make her decision. "If you won't choose, I will. They will _all_ be executed. So tell me, what are you willing to sacrifice to do the right thing?" Elliot shook his head and turned to Lyra. "This is madness. We can't- - We just can't- -"

Seeing the expression of dread and dismay on his face, the princess looked away as she felt something she hadn't in a long time. Guilt. She was ashamed that she had considered choosing him for execution simply because she didn't want to marry him. It would have been an entirely different matter if she believed it was the right thing to do, but Lyra had wanted him dead for selfish reasons. When she felt him grab her shoulders, she looked up only to find that all the fear had left him. Elliot stared deeply into her clear, blue eyes, the seriousness in his voice chilling her to the bone. "Choose me. You can't let them all die," he said, cupping her cheek gently, "Choose me. There's only one decision you can make. It has to be me."

* * *

**And there you have it. My least favorite chapter so far. You'll have to stay tuned for Chapter 5 to see who Lyra chooses, though it picks the story up at quite a later date, and that makes it all the more annoying for me that I have to leave it this way until after Thanksgiving.**

**Oh well, you guys like cliffhangers, right? Hehe. Anyway, I'll be back soon, my sweets. And if you're really into this story, though I can't imagine that you would be foaming at the mouth in anticipation of the next chapter, take a look at all the other great fanfiction out there for this game while you wait for my return. There are some hella good stories floating around.**

**Also, if you have time and wouldn't mind, please leave me some feedback for La Petite Mort. If you don't wanna write a review, I don't mind PMs, if that's your bag. Bleh, I really do talk too much!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 is finally here! It's a little later than I had anticipated. Sorry for the wait. I meant to update sooner, but my Thanksgiving visit with the relatives lasted a bit longer than expected. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it even though this chapter didn't quite turn out as good as I had envisioned. I'm still thinking ahead to future chapters. _ I'd also like to give SO MUCH LOVE to those of you who took the time to review as well as all the alerts and favorites. I really appreciate it and it's as effective as cracking a whip to motivate me to get chapters out faster. hehe**

* * *

The Mercenary Camp was dark and chilly and the evening was surprisingly quiet, giving a wayward princess nothing to do but think about that momentous day in Bowerstone Castle. Even now, months later, as she embraced her new role as a Hero, her thoughts would often drift back to the people she had condemned to death. Logan gave her a choice that day; punish Elliot, or punish the traitors. Her answer had been silence, something her brother had mistaken for weakness. He could not have been further from the truth. By the time the king began his countdown, Lyra was no longer struggling to decide who she would save, but who she would kill. Elliot's noble request to be put to death in place of the rebels had disgusted her. She could not fathom throwing her life away for strangers, nor spending her life with someone who would. And those ignorant rebels, they had caused the whole mess with their petty complaints. In her opinion, both sides had already chosen death with their actions and so she ruthlessly killed two birds with one stone by keeping her lips sealed.

A cold smile cut across the princess' face as she stared out over the camp. She'd played the part of tormented sister perfectly when Logan had her fiancé and the trio of traitors taken away for execution. Even Walter had been convinced of her sincerity when she said she would never forgive her brother. In reality, it was one of the only times she had actually felt like thanking him. The king was the only one with the power to break the royal decree set forth by the previous ruler, their mother, and so he had. By night's end, Lyra was not only free of that dreadful engagement, but Logan's apparent descent into complete tyranny had prompted Walter to spirit her away from the castle; something he'd secretly been planning to do for years, oddly enough. It was then that he introduced her to her destiny. To be her mother's daughter, a Hero, and take her rightful place as Queen of Albion. She hadn't needed much convincing. It was an exciting prospect for a bored princess.

Ever since then, she'd continued to evolve as she struggled to make allies and gain support. Actually, to say she was struggling was putting it lightly. Lyra not only had her relationship to Logan working against her, but also her own less than savory antics. Allowing Elliot and the rebels to be executed was the first time she had consciously been responsible for another's death and though she had not pulled the trigger of the executioner's rifle, the princess had felt invigorated by the deaths she had caused. Needless to say, Lyra had no qualms about killing after that and so long as Walter was not in the vicinity, she killed indiscriminately. So while news of her good deeds traveled fast, rumors of her sadistic nature tended to travel even faster. And when she came seeking an alliance, everyone wanted proof, proof that she was not like her brother. Unfortunately, it often did more harm than good to threaten them the way she used to do with Elliot. That was how she discovered how quickly empty promises seemed to open doors.

Still, people remained wary of Lyra even with those signed treaties and agreements, so she decided to be a bit more discreet in her evil doings. It was for that reason that she came to reside in the Mercenary Camp during down times. Though she'd managed to win over the Dwellers, Brightwall, and the soldiers at Mourningwood Fort, she found that she fit in much better with the heartless, nearly barbaric mercenaries of Mistpeak. There was a steady stream of alcohol, drugs, whores, and people no one would miss to keep her occupied and it made her occasional breaks from adventuring far more enjoyable. At least in the camp, she could be herself whereas in the public eye, she had to be on her best behavior.

But Lyra's scruples were not the only things that changed. Her appearance had undergone somewhat of a transformation as well. She no longer kept her brunette locks pulled neatly into a tight braid and instead let them hang freely in loose waves that fell just below her shoulder blades. It was a style Logan had not approved of for a noble, nor did Jasper for that matter, but with newfound freedom came newfound expressions of that freedom. Once flawless ivory skin was now tinted lightly by the sun and often bore cuts and bruises from the princess' new free roaming lifestyle. Even though only a few months had passed since she left the castle, all traces of her former seat in the lavish lap of luxury had apparently faded. Lyra had adapted perfectly to the life of an adventuring Hero. And while she still needed to keep a low profile and behave whenever possible, the princess could not be more pleased with the path laid out before her. It brought a smile to her face each time she pictured herself knocking Logan from his high horse and taking his place in the saddle.

"If you keep staring and grinning like that you're going to make my men nervous. They already think you're some kind of demon," Saker said, coming up the ramp to join her on the top tier of the guard tower. Boy growled at the newcomer, the hairs along his neck bristling as Lyra turned to face the man. She didn't appreciate her train of thought being interrupted, but she supposed the company might be welcomed. It was only recently that she discovered just how much she despised being alone. He smirked at her as he exhaled a long drag from his cigar and flicked ashes towards the canine. Patting her thigh, the princess eased her furry friend's temper and sent him back into a less aggressive stance seated at her feet. She then turned her attention back to Saker with a smirk of her own. "I thought one of the glorious tasks of being a guard _was_ staring." The man chuckled, stepping past her to look out at the quiet camp. "Yeah, well as boring as you may find it, Princess, you got off easy considering the things I could have had you do to earn your keep around here."

Lyra leaned back against the railing beside him, propped up by her elbows as she eyed the exceptionally tall mercenary. "Oh, you're still under the impression that you're in charge? That changed the day I showed up, now didn't it? Besides, I only agreed to keep watch tonight because I'm expecting someone," she said. Saker scowled and turned to face her. "You know better than to bring anyone here," he snapped, pointing a finger at her, "I may have pledged my men to your cause, but that doesn't make you the boss. _Don't_ overstep your bounds, _Princess_." Before the man could utter a single syllable more, Lyra unsheathed her blade and severed the finger cleanly from his hand. The motion had been so swift and fluid that it took Saker a full three seconds to realize where all the blood was coming from.

As he gaped at his trembling, four-digit hand, the princess returned her blade to its confines on her back. "Let that be a reminder to you, Saker, my friend. I have no bounds," Lyra explained, kicking his dismembered finger towards Boy, who promptly devoured it, "This makes twice that I've spared your life. Let's not make a habit of it, hmm? I'd like for you to be around to keep the camp in order while I'm away." Though the mercenary was in excruciating pain, he lowered his hand and simply nodded, proudly keeping his emotions in check. "Perhaps I was… a bit out of line. I did swear loyalty to you and I'll honor that. But who's this you've got coming here?" Lyra sighed and leaned against the rail again, this time facing away from Saker and the steadily growing puddle of sanguine fluid near his feet. "No one you need to worry your pretty head about. With my face plastered on every wall right alongside you other wanted bastards you ought to know I wouldn't bring anyone here that could cause you any problems."

Saker nodded again and held his hand up, eyeing the wound with a frown. Well, at least the bleeding was slowing. "I'd be happy to cauterize that for you," Lyra smirked, a dim, red glow surrounding her right hand as the gauntlet responded to her Will, "Or maybe… you'd prefer I kiss it and make it better?" The man looked up to find her standing directly in front of him, eyes narrowed slyly. He was at first unsure of what she was suggesting, but as it slowly dawned on him a grin crept onto his lips and he dropped his hand to his side, forgetting the pain as his blood suddenly rushed somewhere else. "You know, I heard you liked tall blokes," he said as he moved towards her, "I think I'm just your type." The princess giggled, her fingers crawling up Saker's chest as he wrapped his still intact hand around her waist.

Lyra's fingers had barely laced on the back of the mercenary's neck when a shot was fired from very close by. The pair jumped back from one another, each assuming the other was responsible until the real culprit spoke up. "She doesn't have a type. People with the fate of the country in their hands don't have the time to waste on romantic escapades," Walter said in a sour tone, earning himself a scowl from the princess, "We're heading to Industrial." Lowering the pistol he had aimed at Saker's head, the old knight turned and went back down the ramp. Lyra huffed and pushed past the speechless mercenary with Boy prancing along after her. "Keep recruiting while I'm gone. I'll be back soon," she called up as she followed her mentor down the guard tower. "Yeah," Saker frowned.

Walter's pace was surprisingly quick for a man his age and Lyra found that she had to jog to keep up as they left the camp. Clearly, he was upset by what he had seen, but she wasn't quite sure why. It wasn't as though he hadn't caught her in a similar situation countless times before. And each time, he'd played the part of overprotective father and either chased her companions away with threat, blade, or bullet, but then they would end up laughing about it. This time was different. Saker was well out of sight now, but Walter wasn't laughing. "So is that what was so important you had return to the Mercenary Camp before we could go to Industrial as planned? Don't you understand how important this revolution is? I wish you'd take it more seriously. You're not a child anymore," he said after what seemed an eternity of silent traveling.

The princess shrugged as she trekked along behind the old knight. "That camp is part of the revolution too. Saker may not be what _you_ picture when you think of an ally, but he's on our side and I need to make sure it stays that way," she explained. Walter snorted at the idea. "There are other ways to ensure your friends stay loyal, Lyra. You can't reduce everything to… well, that." She stifled a laugh and caught up to the man when he finally slowed down. "Obviously, Walter! But I cut off the poor sod's finger _just_ for pointing it at me. I figured I owed him _something_ and I was getting bored up there waiting on you. Besides, you saw how tall he was, I bet he was- -" "Don't say another bloody word, blast you," the knight growled, clapping his hands over his ears. Snickering, his young protégé patted his shoulder and then took the lead. "Well, Industrial awaits. As much fun as it is to torture you with my sordid affairs, I suppose you're right. It's time to take things seriously."

* * *

**Okay, so I hope I made it clear enough throughout the chapter, but just in case I didn't I'll explain when this particular chapter takes place during the main story. Lyra has so far gained the support of the Dwellers, Brightwall, the Mercenary Camp, and Major Swift. She spared Saker, obviously. Even though she's evil and sparing him was a good choice, I always felt an evil character would be more likely to actually get along with him during their alliance. Well, if you call throwing your weight around and cutting off his finger only to try and seduce him moments later as 'getting along'. Anyway, so yeah. This took place after getting Major Swift and Ben's support at Mourningwood Fort. Lyra went back to the camp for a little R&R and instead of hanging around at the sewer entrance, Walter was out looking for leads and whatnot before meeting up with her there. Okay, my need to explain everything thoroughly has been satisfied. Chapter 6 will be coming soon and we'll finally have another glimpse of our favorite little S.O.B. ;D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter freakin' 6 is finally here. I hope you enjoy it. Also, thanks again for the reviews, alerts, and favorites. It means a lot to me!**

* * *

Industrial had changed little since the last time Lyra had laid eyes on it; it was just as filthy and full of outstretched hands as it was five long years ago. As she and Walter walked through the crowded streets, he had explained how bad things were, but it really needed no explanation. The princess could see with her own eyes how miserable the people were, though she felt no pity for them. "Why don't they leave? They could leave Bowerstone, couldn't they? I didn't have a penny when I left the castle, but I earned enough to get by. There are opportunities everywhere," she said, sneering at a kneeling woman who tugged gently at her pant leg as she passed by. The knight looked back as they walked and sighed at his protégé's naivety. "These people aren't like you and me. Many of them are too old or too young to go chasing beasts and bandits for gold, or they just don't have the experience. Others are sick or injured. But maybe you're thinking they ought to try and steal what they can't earn, hmm? Well, that's a good way to end up imprisoned or dead."

Lyra shrugged and picked up the pace, eager to get away from the beggars as soon as possible. "I'd rather be dead than sit in the street with my hand out all day. That's no life," she scoffed, "But I guess their laziness is what keeps people like us in business. These people are too ignorant to take charge of their own destinies and change their lives for the better, so they'll gladly support this revolution. They'll support _me_." Walter shook his head, wondering when the princess had taken such a grim view of the world and the people in it. He certainly hadn't taught her to think that way, but he still believed that somewhere deep inside, past the cold indifference and the complacency, Lyra held some shred of compassion for her people. It was his hope that the revolution would not only free Albion of tyranny, but also help the princess grow up and shrug off the lingering audacities of youth so that she could become the ruler he knew that she could be. The one Albion deserved.

"Hey… look," Lyra said, suddenly pointing towards one of the factories up ahead. Walter squinted his eyes in the indicated direction and stroked his goatee curiously. "I wonder what's going on up there," he pondered as he studied what appeared to be a gathering of protestors, "Let's see, shall we?" The princess nodded and led the way, Boy barking and wagging his tail in agreement as he trotted towards the crowd. "Reaver is exploiting us! We deserve fair pay," bellowed a man standing atop a makeshift stage. Lyra frowned, realizing that it was nothing more than further complaining by the ungrateful citizenry as they came to a stop just outside the entrance to the small courtyard-type area in front of the factory. She glanced at her companion and smirked "This brings back memories, doesn't it, Sir Walter?" The old knight was, in fact, thinking the same thing. "Balls… It's just like that day at the castle. Well, at least your brother isn't likely to have any of these people executed."

"We demand better working conditions," Farrell continued, failing to notice the newcomer behind him on the factory's balcony, "We're workers, we're not slaves!" Lyra's gaze lifted from the protestor when a loud ping echoed across the courtyard. Though they had been drooping with boredom up until that point, when her blue eyes came to rest on the one responsible for the sound they shot open. Her lips parted slightly in shock. She hadn't expected to see Reaver, not there. The princess' cheeks flushed as she stared, her heart racing. He hadn't changed a bit, not that she had expected him to, and he was just as dashing as she remembered. Though their first encounter had been fleeting, it had left a lasting affect on Lyra, forever shaping the way she viewed the world around her and what she perceived as appropriate or inappropriate. To see him now nearly made her go weak in the knees.

Reaver tried once more to get Farrell's attention by clanking his cane against the rail, but the oblivious rebel ignored the sound yet again. "There's only one thing for it," he said firmly, "We have to stand up to Reaver!" Fed up with trying to do things peacefully, the eccentric aristocrat took aim and fired into the back of Farrell's knee. As he fell, grabbing his leg in pain, the frightened crowd finally gave Reaver their full attention. "But lying down is so much easier than standing up. My dear friends. In order to raise morale, I am offering prizes to the most deserving workers. The rules that will govern what I like to call the Reaver Team Spirit Award, are these: firstly, any worker that so much as murmurs another complaint," he paused to fire another bullet into the wounded protestor, "will be shot."

While Walter flinched at the business tycoon's appalling behavior, his young companion could not hide her amusement. Though she received a disapproving nudge from her mentor, Lyra snickered uncontrollably like an adolescent with a crush on the schoolyard bully. "Secondly, any worker who takes more than a three second break will be shot," Reaver said, punctuating his statement with yet another shot at Farrell, "Thirdly, any worker who breaks any other rules I have yet to formulate, will, yes, you guessed it, be shot." The last bullet seemed to do it and Farrell took his last forced breaths before death ceased his painful writhing on the stage. The workers attending the protest were horrified. Some cried while others trembled with rage and fear, but Lyra could only marvel at how easily Reaver had handled the situation.

"You may return to work now. As you know, I am a generous man, and likely to start handing out prizes right away. So go on. Shoo! Be off with you! Chop chop," he smirked brandishing his pistol menacingly while the workers scattered. The princess grinned to herself and wished Walter wasn't there. If she'd been on her own, she would have blown her cover and fired on Reaver just to see him in action. Lyra desperately wanted to meet him again. She wanted him to notice her, to look at her the way he had looked at her in the ally. Alas, she could not risk someone as close to the king's ear as Reaver recognizing her. He was an avaricious sociopath who'd be all too happy to collect the bounty on Lyra and Walter's heads. So as much as she admired him, she knew that now was not the time to go chasing after childhood crushes.

The pair turned away as Reaver disappeared back inside the smog-spewing factory and continued on their way. "That's why we're here. That's why Albion needs you," Walter said, "Your brother must have been out of his mind when he handed control of Industrial to Reaver." "Is it really so bad? He's giving these miserable peasants work," she said, flinching when the knight turned on her, eyes blazing. "That's just the sort of thing I'd expect Logan to say, not you. Don't be so callous, Lyra! What would your mother say if she heard you talking like that?" While she was initially shocked by the outburst and even momentarily regretful of her words, the princess clenched her jaw tightly and stared back. She stood toe to toe with Walter and proudly lifted her chin. "I don't suppose she would have much to say these days, do you? My mother is _dead_," she spat, shouldering past the seething man and crossing her arms.

Walter's gaze fell to the street and his eyes softened. Lyra was putting up a tough front, but he could tell the mention of her mother had cut her deeply. It wasn't because she was dead, but because the old Hero Queen had not spared much time for her daughter even when she was alive. "She never cared much for bloody complaints either," he said, turning towards the princess with a smile, "Your mother was born on the streets of Old Town, but she didn't sympathize with those unwilling to work and make a difference in their own lives." Lyra looked over her shoulder and dropped her arms back to her sides. For a moment, she almost wanted to have the old knight tell her one of his famous stories about her mother, but decided against it. Knowing that the Hero Queen had held a similar view of the beggars in Bowerstone was apology enough and she smiled faintly.

"We should go on," Walter said, squeezing her shoulder gently as he continued on, "It's time you met the Bowerstone Resistance." The princess nodded solemnly and looked once more towards the factory before following her mentor. "Oh, Walter… not a pub," she groaned as they neared the Riveter's Rest. He chuckled and shook his head. "No, no. As parched as I am, we're not going in there," he grinned, leading her past the busy pub and down a short flight of stairs beside the canal. He paused outside a rusted door and gestured towards it with a wave of his hand. "Right, this should be the place. Somewhere beyond this door is the base of the Bowerstone Resistance. Ready when you are." Lyra eyed the door with a frown. Why did all of their potential allies have to reside in such unappealing locales? The Dwellers in that dreadful, freezing mountain, the Swift Brigade in the putrid swamp, and now the Resistance in a stinking sewer. "It's like we're gathering up a bunch of filthy rats to try and take on a lion," she sighed to herself, pulling the creaking door open slowly.

"I really love how much time we're spending in caves and sewers these days," Walter said sarcastically as they trudged through the muck, "No, really." Lyra chuckled. The old knight's speluncaphobia strikes again. She had asked him several times over the past few months why he had such a disliking for subterranean areas, but he always declined to answer. It was one of the few things he seemed tight-lipped about, which confused the princess. It wasn't like him to keep anything to himself, but she supposed everyone needed their private issues. Avo knows she had plenty. "I should warn you, I don't know what kind of reception we'll get. I know their leader well enough, but it was never safe for me to come down and meet the rest of them," he said, "And they're not exactly the most trusting of people." "I would imagine they aren't. And probably not the trust_worthy_ kind either. Are you sure this is a worthwhile venture? I've never been that fond of sewer rats."

Walter smirked and didn't dignify her question with a response. As they neared a crossway in the tunnel, he plucked a torch from the wall and held it aloft as he called out to anyone within earshot. "Hello? Hello? …Maybe we've got the wrong place," he thought aloud, shrugging to Lyra, "Let's, you know, get out and- -" "Don't move," came a command that caused them both to jump. The culprit cocked his pistol and trained it on the pair, prompting the princess to unsheathe her blade while several other rebels joined their friend in preparing their firearms. "We won't move if you won't shoot. Deal?" Walter held both the torch and his free hand upwards to show he didn't mean any trouble, but Lyra merely scowled, ready for blood. In fact, she was probably a little too eager to spill some. Kidd seemed to pick up on the bloodlust in her eyes and gestured towards her with his pistol. "You better tell your friend that."

Walter looked to his protégé and spoke calmly. "It's alright," he said, relieved when she actually obeyed by lowering her blade, "Just do as he says." "Who are you and what're you doing here?" "I'm Walter and this is… well, that really doesn't matter right now. We're here to speak with Page." Somewhere behind the stacked crates, a rifleman grimaced, "I say we shoot them!" The old knight did his best to calm the situation, but the hardheaded rebels simply didn't want to give him a chance to explain. "Listen! We're on your side! Just hear us out!" "We don't make deals with spies," Kidd growled, "Shoot." "Wait!"

Lyra was prepared to defend herself; she could already hear the triggers being pulled and tensed. "Put your weapons down," said a dark-skinned female, approaching from the tunnel behind her companions, "I thought I gave the orders around her, Kidd." The man highly resembled a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar before supper as he lowered both his weapon and his head. "Sorry, Page. Got a bit carried away." The princess scoffed, but Walter gripped her shoulder before she could say anything that might put them right back at a disadvantage. "Walter," Page said, "Glad you're alright." "And I'm glad you came when you did," he chuckled.

The woman grinned and veered off slightly to move in a different direction. "I wasn't exactly expecting you. Let's talk somewhere a bit more private," she said, waving them over. Lyra put away her sword, though reluctantly, and sneered at the guards as she and Walter moved past them to follow the resistance leader. "I had this whole plan, you see, but I… well," the knight said, seemingly disappointed in how his plan hadn't gone smoothly, "We ended up leaving the castle earlier than I thought." "I heard. Pity. Your messages were always useful." "I can offer you something better." The princess regarded her mentor with a raised brow. Messages? So Walter had been keeping something else from her all this time. While they were in the castle, _he_ was spying on the king all along. She grinned to herself. She had to applaud his cunning. Logan hadn't suspected a thing.

As the trio entered a room that bore a striking resemblance to the War Room in the castle despite the fact that it was in a sewer, they gathered around the large, circular map in the center. Walter turned to his young companion and raised his hand to say, "Page, I'd like you to meet- -" "I know who she is," she interrupted without even looking in the woman's direction, "I thought you'd know better than to bring the princess here." Lyra narrowed her eyes on Page. She could tell right away that they were not going to get along. Then again, it clearly wasn't a social call and the only thing she needed from this rude little sewer rat was a pledge of support. "She's not just the princess. She's a Hero," Walter said, easily noting Lyra's rising temper. Page rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Great. Give her a medal."

The princess gritted her teeth, only holding her tongue due to the pleading look in Walter's eyes. He was silently begging her to be on her best behavior and lucky for him, he was the only one she'd make a real effort to do so for. Boy, on the other hand, sensing his mistress' dislike for the stranger's rudeness, raised his hackles and growled. He wouldn't dare act unless directed by Lyra, but he could at least voice the disapproval she was unable to. Page glanced at the collie and frowned, but turned her attention back to the knight when he spoke again. "No. I mean she's a real Hero. Like her mother." Only then did the mocha-skinned rebel lay her eyes on Lyra, though she regarded her skeptically. "Really? It doesn't change anything. Your brother is the reason we live underground. He's the reason we fight. How do we know she's any better?" "Let her prove it," he said.

The princess sighed as her honor was once again called into question. Though she always felt that people had the right to be wary, she grew weary of proving they had no reason to be. It was an act she'd have to keep up until her shapely backside was resting easy in the throne, though, so it was as necessary as it was tiresome. "It's not just me she needs to convince," Page said, "The people of this city need someone they can believe in. Prove to them they should follow you. Then we'll talk. For now, I have work to do." With those parting words, she left Lyra and Walter alone. The knight turned to her and grinned, seeming to know just how much she dreaded what he was about to say. "Looks like you have work to do too. You have a whole city to inspire." Lyra nodded and smiled half-heartedly as she turned to go. She waved sluggishly over her shoulder, heading towards the exit reluctantly.

* * *

**And there you have it. Chapter 7 will follow soon. Reaver will not be joining us for that one, though. I know this isn't much of a Reaver/Princess story so far aside from her pining for him, hehe, but I didn't want to just go at it from the get go. I want you to get a feel for my Lyra. I want it to be clear that she is evil as well as why she turned out the way she did. coughMommyIssuescough.**

**I don't want you to love her or to hate her. I know she's pretty abrasive and unusual for a main character, but like some of my precious reviewers have claimed, there really aren't enough stories with an evil princess. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but it's definitely mine! Heh, well, remember to leave those reviews if you have the time, pretty please. See ya next chapter.**


	7. Chapter 7

**O'ma'gosh! I am so happy with the reviews this story is getting and I really didn't expect it to get all that much attention. Thanks to everyone for hanging in there and sticking with this story. Keep those reviews, favorites, and alerts coming and I'll keep churning out the chapters, peeps! ;D**

* * *

Lyra was overcome by a sense of nostalgia as she walked the streets of Industrial alone. Well, not entirely alone. Faithful Boy was right by her side and he had learned, by picking up on his mistress' discomfort, to growl at anyone who dared beg for a spare coin. She would smile at her canine companion and whisper a 'good mutt' with each job well done, but her mind was elsewhere. Without consciously making the decision to do so, the wayward princess walked a path much like the one she had taken when she was fifteen on that brief, unscheduled excursion. Her first stop had been the pub and, much to her amusement, she spotted a few of the very same drunks she'd seen five years ago still wasting their lives away at the shabby tables. After purchasing and gulping down a mug of ale herself, Lyra made her way through the alleys.

Inevitably, her wandering brought her into the same backstreet where she'd first laid eyes on _him_. Feeling the heat curl in her belly just thinking about Reaver, the princess leaned against the wall and stared dreamily at the spot where he had stood. She tried to picture herself standing there, looking up at him, and then she tried to determine what he had seen when he looked at her. Back then, she'd been nothing more than a waifish adolescent, yet he'd been drawn to her regardless of her age and appearance. She was no exotic beauty, not then and not now, but somehow she had caught his eye and that was reason enough to think highly of oneself. At least in her mind. Oh, what she wouldn't give for him to happen upon her now in the very spot of their first meeting. Perhaps that was too much to hope for and too childish a fantasy. Lyra was an adult now and it simply wasn't prudent to hope for a second meeting with Reaver. Not when he would stand to make such a profit off turning her in to the king. And she wouldn't blame him for doing it.

No, Lyra needed to push all thoughts of her idol to the back of her mind and focus on the task at hand. She needed to fool the Bowerstone cretins into thinking she was some kind of savior so they would pledge their support. It was easy enough to accomplish, though a bit tedious. Perform a few tasks and gain some notoriety through good deeds and she'd have the people eating out of her hand. And those that didn't would have the option of eating lead from her pistol. Either way, the shelter seemed like a good place to start. As she exited the alley she noticed a small gathering outside the decrepit-looking building and, hoping it wasn't another pointless protest, headed in that direction.

"I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid you'll have to go somewhere else tonight," said a woman at the front of the crowd as Lyra joined them. "Somewhere else? And where would that be, exactly? Every other place has been closed down and I'll freeze to death on the streets," a homeless man griped, "And that's if Logan's goons don't bash my skull in first." "You think you're the only one with problems? I'm sorry, I'm just… Look, I wish I could help you, but I can't." The beggars mumbled and complained, but they took their leave. With a sigh, the ginger-haired woman turned towards Lyra when she didn't disperse along with the rest of the crowd. "I hope you're not looking for somewhere to stay because this place is about to close for good. I have no choice. I have to sell the building to pay the ransom; it's the only way to get my fiancé back," she frowned.

The princess needed no further explanation. This woman was exactly the type of person she was looking for. Desperate. "I used to have one of those, you know. A fiancé. My brother had him killed. I was helpless then, but as you can see by my sword and gun, I'm not so helpless anymore. I'll help you get your fiancé back," Lyra said, barely quelling the urge to laugh out loud upon thinking of Elliot. "Oh, thank you! My poor love, it's been agony being apart from him. And it's about time those thugs faced justice. The rough kind! I'm Linda, by the way," the woman said, failing to notice Lyra's rolling eyes when she mentioned the 'agony' she was in, "They've been harassing the local homeless for weeks, but now this… it's outrageous. I know where they are. They demanded I bring them the ransom in a week's time. But I'll bring them something better!"

Lyra was a bit shocked at Linda's enthusiasm. It wasn't often she found someone so eager to rush _into_ danger with her. It was almost a welcomed change. Almost. By now, she was accustomed to fighting alone, or with Walter. The last thing she needed was to babysit some love-struck loon during a scrap with thugs. At least Walter could hold his own. As she followed Linda across the street to what could only be described as a hovel, she wondered just what she'd gotten herself into and desperately hoped that it would all pay off in the end. "Linda," a masculine voice seemed to sneer from behind the door after the woman pounded on it, "You just cost me a bit of gold, love. I bet old Harry it'd take you the full week to get the money. You're an industrious one, ain'tcha?"

"Just open the bloody door, Keith. Let's have done with this," Linda said sternly as the door creaked open. "Right. Mr. Ferret's down those stairs. Whoa, hang on," Keith frowned, spotting Lyra as the pair stepped in, "Who's your friend?" "In your parlance, she's the bagman. And that gold doesn't leave her hands until my fiancé's walked out of your fetid little den." The thug put his hands up defensively and shrugged as he warned them, "Alright, no need to get all uppity. You just watch yourselves around Mr. Ferret or things'll get unfriendly fast." Linda ignored the threat, as did Lyra, and headed directly towards what looked to be a cellar door.

They descended the rather cramped stairway and exited a short hallway into a large room. Several tables lined the walls, each occupied by three or so of Ferret's ruffians. The two women did their best to ignore the leering men and made their way towards the back of the room where the mastermind himself stood just beyond a doorway flanked by two guards. "Ah, Linda," Nigel Ferret droned with a grin, "I cannot tell you how elated I am to have this unfortunate situation brought to a satisfying resolution. Your associate can dispense with her burden by piling the funds upon the table." Linda, in an incredibly bold and snarky tone, replied while crossing her arms, "There's no gold, Ferret. Now you cough up my fiancé from whatever filthy corner you're keeping him in, or my _associate _is going to start collecting heads. And piling them upon the table."

Lyra quirked a brow at her companion and cracked a smile. She was beginning to like this lady; even if she _was_ only acting so bravely because there was an experienced fighter on her side. She had the kind of attitude the princess could appreciate. Mr. Ferret, on the other hand, was not thrilled by the news and sighed. "My initial judgment of your character was clearly misguided. You possess some heart after all. Lads, tear it out," he said as he slammed the door shut, cutting himself off from the violence that would surely follow such a command. Lyra immediately tensed and shoved Linda out of the way whilst drawing her sword and pistol.

The two guards, as well as the ten thugs seated at the tables, wasted no time in obeying their boss' order and circled the princess. Being outnumbered by a dozen vicious, blood-thirsty goons was something Lyra had gotten used to dealing with these days and she easily dispatched four of them with a well-timed weave of fire and vortex Will. As their bodies fell to the ground in a smoking heap of chard bone and gore, their still living comrades hesitated for only a moment before lunging forth to take on the cackling woman. Now thoroughly engaged in combat, Lyra could spare no more time to weaving a spell and instead had to rely on sword and pistol.

Three more of Ferret's men fell dead, each now sporting a rather gruesome hole between their eyes and several gouges to their midsections. From Linda's point of view, Lyra was enjoying herself a bit too much. She couldn't decide if this Hero she had solicited had something against the less than savory side of Bowerstone or if she simply liked killing. When she first met her, she hadn't seem quite so… violent. As if in answer, a decapitated head rolled up against Linda's feet, causing her to squeal and jump back from the wide-eyed, open-mouthed thing. "Take it easy!" Despite her earlier promise to Ferret, she had not really intended for anyone to lose their head, but Lyra ignored her plea altogether as she plunged her blade cleanly through another man and sliced upwards, separating his right shoulder from his body.

The three remaining men backed off a bit, fearing what the seemingly deranged female would do to them if they continued their assault. She was not about to let them escape, of course, and charged her gauntlets as they turned to flee. They had just about reached the door, their freedom, when the vortex of flames caught them and spun them mercilessly whilst burning the flesh from their bones. When the deed was done, Lyra dusted off the front of her blouse and wiped away the speckles of blood that coated nearly every inch of her face. The motion caused her to wince and she realized that she had not come away from the scrap uninjured. In fact, she was in quite a lot of pain from a particularly nasty gash on her side as well as a bullet lodged somewhere in her shoulder.

Focusing her Will into a single digit on her right hand, she cauterized the cut on her side, gritting her teeth as the fire seared her flesh closed. The bullet, she could deal with for now. Jasper had a certain knack for extracting those pesky projectiles and she would be sure to have him give it a look next time she returned to the Sanctuary. It would make a fine addition to the collection of other bullets, daggers, and debris he had removed from her since she'd began this long journey to the throne. When she turned to Linda, she found her staring back at her, mouth agape. "Well? What were you expecting? I wasn't going to bleed to death," she shrugged, sheathing her blood-soaked sword and holstering her pistol. The woman shook her head gently, banishing her shock as best she could. "Eh, well, I suppose you're right. I just wasn't expecting any on-the-go cauterizing."

"Your men are dead, Ferret," Linda then said, turning towards the door he had hid behind for the duration of the fight, "Unless you want to join them, let us in." "It's open," the man yelped. The pair exchanged a single glance and then shoved the door open. It led to another large room, but this one had only one occupant. Nigel Ferret. He was seated towards the back of the room, near a large hole that, from the smell, lead to the sewers. Linda wasted no time in confronting the crime lord and revealed a pistol, which she aimed at his head. Lyra suddenly felt rather insulted. Just where was that gun-wielding side of the love-struck loon when she was being cut and shot? "You brought this on yourself, Ferret. This didn't have to happen."

It was clear to Lyra that her companion was assuming her fiancé to be dead. He wasn't in the house above, nor these rooms below. She was moments away from pulling the trigger when Ferret threw up his hands defensively and spoke. "It still doesn't! We merely got off on the wrong foot. I'm no threat to you without my men, and I'm only too happy to return your fiancé," he said, flinching when Linda cocked her pistol, "I can be quite accommodating." An obvious weight seemed to lift from the woman's shoulders, but her expression remained hard and stern. "Get on with it then," she ordered. "Well, the thing is, he's actually not on the premises, exactly, at the present time. He's incarcerated within a nearby… facility, shall we say. That access hatch will provide you with… well. Access."

Lyra's eyes drifted back over to the gaping hole at the very back of the room and grimaced. She already knew who'd have to make that dive and she wasn't at all happy about it. "The sewer? You fellows are a sophisticated lot," Linda sneered, turning towards the princess, her voice taking a much softer tone, "Please, go and get him. I'll keep an eye on Ferret." With a groan and a roll of her eyes, Lyra moved over to the edge of the opening and looked down. "Walter was right," she sighed, "We spend too much bloody time in sewers!" Reluctantly, she pinched her nose closed and stepped over the edge.

* * *

**Chapter 8 will be out later today, or tomorrow. I'm almost finished with it. I'd also like to have you keep a lookout for a songfic I'll soon be uploading. It's the first one I've ever written, but I just had to do it. The song fits a pre-Shadow Court Reaver so perfectly that I couldn't resist. Anyway, thanks for reading!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**As promised, Chapter 8. Fresh out of my fingers. ;P**

* * *

Lyra quickly surfaced after hitting the water and cried out in pain as both the wound on her side and the bullet hole on her shoulder let her know that she was being far too active with such fresh injuries. Cringing, she looked up to see just how far she had dropped only to discover that Boy had made the leap as well and was plummeting in her direction. She yelped and barely swam out of the way in time to avoid the collie as he landed with a heavy splash. When his head popped up, she glared at him while he merely gave a sort of doggy grin with his tongue flopping out the side of his mouth. The princess just barely resisted the urge to shove him back beneath the water and turned towards the shore where a figure now stood staring in her direction.

Nothing could have prepared her for the shock she received at that moment. Her mouth fell open as she treaded the murky waters. "Elliot!" The man in question merely looked confused by both her presence and the fact that she knew his name. His eyes fell upon the dog as they exited the pool, finally widening in recognition. Elliot's head then snapped back in Lyra's direction and he seemed speechless. Apparently her appearance had changed quite a bit since the last time he had laid eyes on her; so much so that he could scarcely believe that she was the same Lyra. "But you were… Logan had you executed," the princess said, eyes narrowed at her ex. He gazed at her in disbelief. "And I... I thought you were gone. Do you know how hard I've tried to forget you?"

Lyra frowned, wondering how in Avo's name Elliot had escaped his fate. She eyed him carefully as he came closer and wrapped her arms around him hesitantly when he hugged her. "Walter managed to pay the guards off," he explained, pulling away, "He couldn't save those rebels, but he… he paid the guards to let me go. They brought me here to Industrial and I've been here, hiding, ever since. " Now the princess was extremely ticked off. How could Walter keep something like that from her for so long? Why didn't he tell her that Elliot was alive? She felt betrayed and angry. She didn't know how she was going to react the next time she saw the old knight, but he definitely had it coming now. "Walter told me about his plan too. So, you're really going to lead a revolution against Logan? I'm so glad, but did you come looking for me? Is that why you're here?"

The question pulled Lyra from her thoughts and she shook her head. "Linda sent me. I didn't know it was you. Like I said, I thought you were dead," she replied. "Oh, Linda! What am I going to tell her? Just when I think I've got everything sorted out, you come back into my life," Elliot sighed thoughtfully. The princess turned away, looking down the tunnel that seemed to be their only exit. "What do you mean what are you going to tell her? There's nothing to tell. She asked me to help get her fiancé back and that's what I've done. Soon as I get you out of this sewer, that is." Grinning, the man stepped closer and put his hand on her shoulder. "You know what I mean, Lyra... Are you… are you jealous?" He seemed amused by the idea, but lost his grin when she glared at him.

"I'm not jealous. You were supposed to die. I _wanted_ you dead. I didn't want to marry you," she admitted, "But as long as we are no longer betrothed, I don't bloody care what you do." Elliot couldn't believe his ears as his hand slipped from her shoulder and fell limply to his side. Her words probably wouldn't have been so brutally honest if she hadn't been upset with Walter, but with them he realized that Lyra had not been undecided that day in the throne room. She had known exactly what she was doing when she held her tongue and though it pained him to admit it, he had somehow known the truth all along. "Oh… I see. I guess I understand. It was the only way for you to get out of it... I know how much you hated the thought of marrying me." Without acknowledging the hurt in his voice, the princess set off in the only direction available and he hurried to keep up.

As they traveled in silence, Elliot tried desperately to understand why Lyra had undergone such a terrifying change. She wasn't the girl he knew. The princess he had known was not perfect, she had her faults, but the one leading him out of the cesspool was cold and seemed so… wicked. There didn't seem to be any emotion left in her besides feelings of hate and greed. He wondered if Logan's actions that day had finally driven her over the edge. That had to be the cause. He tried to force her to choose between two innocent parties and sentence one of them to death. Yes, he tried to convince himself that Lyra _had_ changed and that it was the king's fault; that she was not always this way, but he was wrong. Perhaps somewhere inside, he was aware of that.

Even as Lyra and Boy battled through the hordes of Hobbes that spilled from every corner of the subterranean level, Elliot was lost in thought. He watched how fluidly her body moved, contorting to avoid the flailing attacks of the despicable little creatures despite her wounds, and marveled at her control over Will. It reminded him of the stories Walter had told them when they were younger, about the Hero Queen, and he realized that Lyra had inherited all of her mother's legendary abilities. She was a Hero. But there was a strange wildness in her eyes when she fought that made his skin crawl. It was almost as if some beast was caged just behind those blue portals, more vicious than anything she was fighting, and it was struggling to free itself and ravage the world outside in its rage. In all the epic tales Walter had spun for them, he'd never mentioned anything like that about the previous queen.

"We must be close now. We're almost back to your precious Linda," she said, picking off two Hobbes with her pistol. It was then, as they neared the rusted door that would surely lead them to freedom from the filthy, Hobbe-infested pit, that his heart finally caught up to everything his mind had been aware of all his life. Lyra had changed nothing but her appearance since her last day in the castle. She had always been a callous, sinful, bully and it wasn't until he knew real love with Linda that his eyes opened to the truth about the woman he used to have so much affection for. She really was no better than Logan and if she ever took the throne as she and Walter planned, Albion could be in for a much darker future.

When the very last Hobbe standing between them and freedom fell dead at Lyra's feet, she turned to face Elliot with sword still drawn. "Do you have something to say to me? Don't think I can't tell when someone is glaring daggers at my back," she smirked, causing him to stall in his tracks. He lowered his eyes timidly, looking for some kind of confidence to say what he wanted to there on the sewer floor. Picturing Lyra sitting on the throne of Albion, surrounded by miserable servants, he found that confidence. His chin lifted and he scowled at the apparently amused female. "I do have something to say. A lot of things, actually. I'm finally able to see you for what you are, Lyra," he said, trying his hardest to ignore the bloodstained sword propped so casually against her shoulder.

The princess tilted her head and arched a single brow as she asked, "Oh? And what do you see? I'm dying to know." Elliot took another moment to build up his courage before continuing. "You're nothing more than a heartless, bitter witch. I used to feel sorry for you, thinking you only acted so shamefully because you never had any real parental guidance, but Walter gave you all the direction and affection you could ever need. You lost your parents, but there were still so many people who cared for you. And you used those people as if they were nothing more than disposable trinkets meant to amuse you; even Walter! I hate what you've become, and I'm starting to think that maybe… maybe I've always hated you."

Lyra had remained perfectly quiet and eerily expressionless during Elliot's long-winded rant, never batting an eye or recoiling in shock from the things the normally soft-spoken man said. When he was finished, heaving before her and waiting for any response she may have, the princess calmly raised her sword from her shoulder and pressed the tip against his throat. "Is that really what you think of me? I must be wretched indeed if even one of my oldest and dearest friends could say such things," she said, her face still curiously blank. Elliot swallowed hard, eyes crossing slightly as he stared down at the cold steel resting against his skin. He couldn't say he expected anything less from the wayward princess, but it was still quite frightening. "I'm not your friend, Lyra. You never let me close enough to be your friend," he stuttered.

"Well," said the woman, finally showing a bit of emotion with a smirk, "I wager you'd be highly opposed to me ascending to the throne, then." Elliot gulped again and raised his hands slowly, hoping to convince her that he meant no harm when he said, "You don't have to kill me. It's not like I could stand in your way." Lyra nodded, rolling her eyes upwards to stare at the ceiling thoughtfully. She lowered the tip of her sword a few inches, but the man was no fool. He knew her well enough to know that it wasn't going to be that simple. "You're right, Elliot. I don't have to kill you. In fact, for old time's sake, I should probably deliver you safely to Linda and then let us go our separate ways. That _would_ be the proper way to handle the situation, wouldn't it? You agree with me, don't you?"

Elliot, still sensing the conversation was not quite as peaceful as Lyra's deceptively calm voice made it appear to be, didn't respond. There was a storm brewing. Or, perhaps it was that caged beast he sensed, its guttural growl rumbling just below the surface of its human mask. She tsked as she shook her head and lowered her eyes, leveling them on his frowning face. "But then… to hear you tell it, I'm not the proper sort. So," she said, lowering the blade completely, "What shall I do with you? Killing you, well, that would be too easy, too predictable. I don't want to do something so… _expected_ of me." "Lyra… think about what you're doing. Think about who you're turning into. I've said it before, but I mean it now more than ever. You're just like King Logan!"

Elliot could almost swear he heard something shatter the moment those words passed his lips and when Lyra's hand shot out, grasping his neck, it felt as though the appendage had transformed into some bestial paw. He had intended for his statement to calm that inhuman thing stirring inside the princess and make her see reason, but instead he had only succeeded in breaking the already unstable bars holding it at bay. "Yes," she growled, her fingernails cutting into his tender flesh, "You've said that before. I'll have to make sure you _never_ say it again." With unnatural strength, Lyra lifted Elliot several feet into the air only to slam his trembling body harshly against the soggy sewer floor. With the wind knocked out of him, he could do nothing but lie there as she searched the immediate area with glazed eyes.

Unfortunately for the stunned man, Lyra found what she was looking for. Her right hand still latched tightly around his jugular, pinning him to the ground, she snatched a rusted dagger once employed by the Hobbes from nearby. Elliot stared at it wide-eyed, wondering what she was planning, but afraid to know. She grinned darkly and revealed her plan by sticking her tongue out and miming a slicing motion with the filthy blade. When the reality of the situation hit him, Elliot's formerly locked muscles regained their strength and he began to struggle against the princess' iron grip. "Shh, shh," she snickered, lowering the tip of the dagger towards his mouth, "We don't want Linda to hear."

Lyra then made several attempts to cut out Elliot's tongue and succeeded only in giving him several disfiguring slashes across his face. With only one hand, it was far too difficult for her to hold open his mouth and fend off his flailing limbs while she tried to complete her goal. With a huff, she realized that she would need at least two hands. So, maneuvering her knee onto his throat to hold him down, she managed to free her right hand for the cause. "Alright, now be still. We don't want to put any more scars on that pretty face," she cackled, wedging the dagger between his teeth to pry open his jaw.

Despite being bitten and having blood spat into her face several times, Lyra eventually managed to slip the knife past his gnashing teeth and cut off his waggling tongue. His garbled screams echoed throughout the spacious tunnels as his mouth filled with blood. Scampering across the floor to escape his tormentor, Elliot clasped his hand over his mouth. When he came to an empty corner, he crawled up against the wall and whimpered helplessly. The princess regarded him apathetically. She then sighed and got to her feet, tossing the dagger away as she retrieved her sword and secured it on her back. "Oh my, I've certainly made a mess of things. You'll have to forgive me. That was the first time I've cut out a tongue. I suppose it takes practice, practice, practice," Lyra shrugged.

Elliot ignored her, unable to focus on anything besides the excruciating pain in his mouth and the dizziness that came from losing so much blood. Frowning, the princess moved towards the corner in which he coward; followed by Boy, who had sat quietly for the duration of his mistress' assault. "Oh, Elliot," she sighed, gazing upon his cut and bruised face, "I can't leave you this way. I may be, what did you say, a heartless, bitter witch? Yes, I may be that, but I'm not without my moments of clarity where even I can see when a line has been crossed. Letting you finish out the rest of your days disfigured and mute would be too cruel. And Linda, think how she would look at you day after day, knowing what a weak, pathetic man you are."

Lyra frowned when Elliot still refused to acknowledge her. His skin grew paler by the moment and his brow glistened with droplets of perspiration, but she knew he was still conscious and still capable of hearing every word she said. He obviously wasn't going to giver her the satisfaction of hearing him try to speak without his tongue and so she decided to go ahead with what she had in store for him. "Alright, Elliot. Well, I should be getting back to Linda. I have some rather unfortunate news to deliver and I'm sure she'll need a shoulder to cry on after I tell her what Ferret's men did to you," she said, crouching down and draping her arm across Boy's back affectionately, "Kill him." The order had barely been uttered when the dog lunged forward, hackles raised and teeth viciously bared.

* * *

**I said once that I didn't want you to love Lyra or to hate her… But I give you permission to hate her now! Hehe. Especially if you liked Elliot. Hey, I liked him too, but he brought it on himself. He knew how much Lyra hated being compared to her brother! :P**

**Well, anyway, this was one of Lyra's darker deeds. And with each one of those, she loses a little more of her humanity, I'd like to think. I'm a little worried about Walter, aren't you? It's not like she's going to forget that he's been keeping secrets from her. I guess we'll find out soon.**

**Next chapter will pick up right before Reaver's masquerade. I was going to write my Lyra doing a few of the available quests during this period to gain the support Page asked her to, but I figure you guys are more interested in seeing more Reaver. I know I am.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I know I say this at the beginning of just about every chapter, but thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story. Also to those of you who have added me to your favorite authors. I feel all warm and fuzzy-wuzzy every time I pop in and find those little indications of how well some of you like my story. Thank you all very much!**

* * *

Linda had not taken the news of Elliot's death well after Lyra revived her, having found her knocked unconscious by Nigel Ferret. Honestly, the princess was relieved to find Elliot's fiancé alone the way she had. It saved her the trouble of having to silence Ferret before he could deny the story she intended to tell about Elliot's demise and why there was no body for a decent burial. The heartbroken fool cried and wailed, unwittingly holding onto her beloved's murderer for nearly an hour. Patiently, the princess allowed the distraught woman to cling to her until her tears subsided long enough for her to thank the Hero for at least trying. "I know you did your best," she had said between sobs, "I suppose we were just too late and that bastard, Ferret, was worse than I would have guessed. Poor Elliot. He was a good man, you know. The best…"

It hadn't been easy for Lyra to conceal her true feelings on the matter, but she had done her best to comfort Linda. Luckily, Elliot's fiancé had mistaken the princess' shaking for rage directed towards Ferret when it had actually been the strain of keeping her inappropriate laughter to herself. By the time the poor woman had regained enough composure to exit the thugs' hideout and return to the shelter, she promised to spread the word of the princess' valiant efforts. Linda also swore allegiance to the rebellion, convinced that men like Nigel Ferret would soon be a thing of the past once Lyra took the throne. One woman added to the revolution wasn't much, but if Linda held any kind of sway in the community, she would be able to win others over to the cause as well. And, if nothing else, it would persuade Page to trust the king's sister.

Once that ordeal was behind her, Lyra set out to accomplish more feats of heroism, though none where quite as satisfactory or grand as the kidnapping affair had been. But as she wrangled a few of the district's criminals for the town guard and reluctantly handed over several thousand gold coins to the various tramps and orphans, she could not seem to shrug off the feeling that she had been betrayed by Walter. She was still unsure of how she would react when she returned to the resistance's hideout and came face to face with him. At one point she thought she might break down and cry after confronting him about Elliot, but the next moment she was imagining that she could do nothing less that slap him across his face and swear on her life that she'd kill him if he ever kept something like that from her again.

Eventually, Lyra could bear it no longer and decided that enough was enough. Surely by now, word of her exploits had reached the sewer rat. There wasn't much left to do in the city anyway, and she certainly wasn't going to go traipsing across the countryside and then wait weeks for conformation of her good deeds to make it back to Bowerstone. So, she descended once more into the sewers, passing Major Swift along the way. He said he was going to the castle to report to her brother, a terrible idea in her opinion, and would attempt to do a little spying in the process. They exchanged their farewells and then parted ways, Lyra heading deeper into filthy tunnels and Major Swift going topside.

Upon entering the makeshift strategy room, Lyra found that she had interrupted some amusing argument between the charming Ben Finn and the abrasive resistance leader. She ignored them, however, even as the captain begged Page to ask her if his hollow men story was true. Instead, she focused all of her attention on Walter, staring at him across the circular map. Well, perhaps 'glaring' would more accurately describe just what the princess was doing. The old knight didn't notice at first, too busy laughing at the humorous exchange between his two allies, but when he did take note of his protégé's icy gaze, his brow shot up in confusion. As the conversation between Ben and Page continued, Lyra and Walter simply looked at one another in silence.

"Fine," Ben said with a huff, "I'll just stand here quietly then, shall I?" Page rolled her eyes and turned away from the persistent man, finally acknowledging Lyra's presence and drawing the princess' attention away from Walter. "You know, for a princess, you're a pretty decent person. People out there are starting to believe in you. You'll forgive me for being wary before, but I had heard some unsavory details about you. I suppose I can pass them off as rumors now." "I knew you two would get along in the end," the old knight smirked. The resistance leader frowned at him and shook her head. "Thank you for taking an interest in my social life, but we have even bigger problems now." Walter's features shifted to match Page's seriousness and nodded. "Reaver."

Lyra's body tensed at the mention of that name and all thoughts of confronting Walter were pushed to the back of her mind. She cleared her throat and asked, "Reaver?" "He's been bleeding the city dry for years now, but it's never been this bad," Page said, "We decided it was time to hit back." "A small group of fighters managed to get into his mansion, but they never made it out," Walter added. The mocha-skinned woman nodded. "I believe they're alive. You're going to help me find them." The princess chewed her lower lip gently, unsure of whether she should be excited that she would undoubtedly see her idol again or feel anxious about going there to kill him.

"Reaver hosts some sort of fancy secret society party every week. We don't know what goes on, but we do know what the guests look like," Walter said, "It's the perfect chance to sneak in." Page then revealed a package she had stowed beside the map and offered it to Lyra. "Here, you'll have to wear this." The princess took the parcel, already guessing at what was inside. It was obviously some type of garment and she could only assume it was some kind of elegant gown. Reaver wasn't likely to throw a party for anyone on the lower ranks of society, after all. "Great," Ben grinned, clapping his hands together, "Where's my costume?" He received only a glare from the resistance leader, causing him to frown. "What? I still can't come? What, even after the three hollow men story? Honestly, this is as bad as the army."

Ignoring the man's complaint, Page simply pointed those present towards the door. "Now everyone out. I have a party to dress for." Both Walter and Lyra moved towards the exit while Ben lagged behind, putting on his most innocent smile as he said, "I'll stay and make sure no one spies on you." The princess laughed, turning to see how Page would react to the captain's generous offer. "Everyone. Out," the woman ordered, disappointing Lyra by not throwing something heavy at Ben's head. He shrugged and took off after Walter. "You know, I'm starting to have serious doubts about our relationship.

Page sighed while the soldier muttered something about how he should have gone with Major Swift to the castle. "I just love how soldiers can come in and out of our secret hideout now. Whatever you do, please don't let Mr. Finn follow you. I've had enough of him for one day. I'll see you at Reaver's Manor," she called to Lyra. The princess nodded, closing the door once she had stepped out of the room. She looked down the tunnel, staring after Walter and Ben as they headed further into the sewers. Her business with the knight would have to wait in light of this new turn of events, but she wasn't going to forget the anger she felt towards him anytime soon. In fact, it was likely only going to build the longer she kept it suppressed.

With a sigh, Lyra took out the Guild Seal and focused all of her Will into transporting herself and Boy to the Sanctuary where she was greeted by Jasper. "Welcome, madam. I see you have a new outfit there for the aforementioned party. I can only assume you've brought it here for alterations," he said, holding out his hands to take the package from the woman. "Yes. Take it and do… something with it," she said, waggling her fingers at it with a sneer, "I'm sure it's perfectly atrocious." The butler bowed and promptly made his way into the wardrobe while Lyra slumped against the wall beside Boy's basket. The collie looked up at her and whined softly, seeming to sense her anxiety.

The princess wasn't going to stoop to conversing with a dog, laying out all of her feelings for him to analyze, but she did slide down into a sitting position beside him and wrap her arm around his neck. Just as any good companion would do, Boy allowed his mistress to lean on him and rest her weary mind a while. She had just about dozed off when Jasper poked his head into the room and cleared his throat. "Your gown is ready, madam. If you would like to inspect it, please follow me," he said, disappearing back into the wardrobe. Groaning, Lyra ruffled Boy's ears and got to her feet to head in that direction.

"It came in a rather unbecoming shade of cream with robin's egg blue trim," the butler explained, leading her over to the mannequin dressed in a ball gown and masquerade mask, "Quite unfashionable. I've taken the liberty of dying it to compliment your personal color palette. I've chosen a winter scheme, as you can see, since I was afraid the pastels of summer wouldn't do your personality justice. I trust it is to your liking?" Lyra inspected the garment carefully and touched the sapphire tinted fabric gingerly, running her finger along the black trim. Indeed, it suited her personality and would certainly compliment her features nicely. "Excellent, Jasper. Thank you," she nodded, already loosening the belt of her trousers and kicking off her boots on her way to the changing screen.

Lyra draped her discarded clothes across the screen as Jasper brought the outfit over to her and handed the princess each article individually. "Oh, and I've repaired the holes in the mercenary top and jacket you brought in earlier as well," the attendant said, reminded by the scar on her left side, just below her ribcage, and the stitched area on her shoulder, "I trust your wounds are healing well?" Nodding, the woman glanced downwards at the injury on her shoulder that had been caused by a bullet. "You stitch flesh just about as well as you stitch cloth, Jasper," she mused, pulling the gown on over her head. "Well, it is something I've had a lot of practice in doing these past few months. I've added the bullet to your rather morbid collection in the trophy room, by the way. I labeled it 'Number Four'. I'm not eager to add a number five, so do be careful, won't you?"

The princess chuckled and pulled on the black stockings, trousers, and heeled shoes that accompanied the gown. "Now here are your wig and your hat," Jasper said, handing over the final pieces of the outfit. Once she had tucked her brunette locks beneath the powdered wig and donned the over-sized hat, the butler offered her the finishing touch. "And last, but not least. Your mask. I left this adorable little item its original shade of crimson and white. Who ever heard of a blue fox?" Lyra inspected it with a grin, quite liking the idea of being a vixen for one evening. She then tied the ribbon in a tight knot on the back of her head and moved over to the full-length mirror. "There's a lady behind that mask, that's the only thing of which I can be certain," the butler thought aloud. "Good. But I doubt he'll recognize me anyway."

A single, snowy brow quirked at Lyra's statement and she saw it on his face in the mirror, shaking her head before he could ask. "Nothing," she said, "The dress is perfect, Jasper. Now I need to get to Millfields. Probably already late." The man simply bowed and then began tidying up as the princess took her leave. She gathered her sword and pistol before re-entering the main area of the Sanctuary. Boy trotted over to her side, wagging his tail as her finger glided across the surface of the circular map. "No, Boy," she said, her finger coming to rest on Bower Lake, "You need to stay here this time. I highly doubt a dog, no matter how handsome, would be invited to the party." With a disappointed snort, the collie returned to his basket and plopped down to pout as Lyra used the map to transport herself to Millfields.

Lyra arrived on the lovely gazebo at the center of the lake in a beam of sparkling light. After getting her bearings, she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized how close she had come to ending up _in_ the lake. The Sanctuary had a mind of its own when it came to transportation. Sure, it would get her into the general area, but she was never quite sure where she would end up. More often than not, it landed her in everything from chicken coops to horse stables and pig sties. That was why she used it sparingly. Besides, half the fun of being a Hero was exploring and she couldn't do that if she continuously relied on magical transportation. But for now, she had better things to do than ponder the pros and cons of fast travel.

The princess turned to gaze across the moon-reflecting waters towards the largest manor in Millfields. She could just barely make out the sound of music, laughter, and depraved conversation spilling out into the night, echoing across the otherwise peaceful lake. It was definitely a party she could see herself attending, but not with the undesirable task of killing Reaver. Of course, she wasn't so sure a man like that _could _be killed. At least not by the likes of her and the sewer rat. He was a Hero, just like her, but had had a lot more practice in the role than Lyra. Centuries of practice, in fact. It promised to be an eventful evening, if nothing else. So, she gathered up the hem of her gown, unaccustomed to dealing with so much fabric, and stalked across the bridge towards the shore.

* * *

**So, next chapter: Masquerade time. Anyone else wish it would have been more like a ball instead of us getting all dressed up only to be mauled by various critters? You're able to dance with people in the game, for crying out loud! If you can't do it at an actual ball, the whole option to dance just seems pointless to me. *nods* Unfortunately, I will be resisting the urge to add any such dancing scenes to this fic. I'm trying to stay as close to the main story as possible, just tweaking a few things for the sake of keeping Lyra in evil character. And adding some stuff between the different portions of the main storyline. Anyway, enough 4 a.m. rambling, Werewolf Masquerade. Onward!**


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter could have been so much better if the game designers/developers/writers would have given us a beautiful ball scene. We could have done a little dance, made a little love, and got all our squeal-y fangirl and fanboy jollies, but no! I could so see Reaver going, "Oh, you dance divinely, my pet. Now, let's see if you're as graceful while trying to keep yourself from being torn to shreds." Then he would twirl you right into some kind of trap door that dropped you into the Wheel of Misfortune! Boom! That's how you do it, Lionhead! j/j, I loves you Peter! :D But, instead we end up with something like this. I hope you still enjoy it.**

* * *

When Lyra finally made it to the gate of Reaver's manor, Page almost didn't recognize her. The princess chuckled at the look of surprise on the rebel's face and shrugged. "I guess I clean up pretty nice, eh? And you're not so bad yourself." The woman seemed almost shy for a moment and then nodded. "Hmm. That really does suit you. Brings out the color in your eyes," she said, obviously not used to receiving a compliment, or giving one. "It's all Jasper's doing. I wouldn't know fashionable if it bit me on the arse," Lyra laughed, surprised when Page actually cracked a smile as well. But just as suddenly as it appeared, the smile vanished behind a mask of stony determination. "Shall we?" The princess nodded and fell in line behind the resistance leader as she moved towards the brightly lit mansion.

They were greeted inside the door by a lecherously grinning butler who stared shamelessly at their ample cleavages after introducing himself as Barry Hatch. While Lyra seemed quite receptive to the servant's roaming eyes, her companion wasn't as thrilled about being ogled. "Bit late, aren't you? You've missed half the rituals and all of the drinking. All we've got left is fizzy pop," he said, tearing his eyes away from their bosoms just long enough to scold them for being tardy. "Um," Page said, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, "We apologize." "Oh yeah? Well, just give me the password and we'll forget all about it, alright?" The pair stiffened and exchanged a worried look. "Err… The password…"

Barry chuckled and waved a dismissive hand through the air. "Nah, I'm just pulling your leg. Come on in," he said, turning to lead them up the grand staircase, "Master Reaver'll be happy to have a few more conscious people around for the final ceremony. I wasn't kidding about the fizzy pop, though. These lightweights drank the lot." Lyra just barely avoided having the contents of one drunken partygoer's stomach spewed on her as she followed closely behind Page and their perverted guide. Reaver's intoxicated guests lay on nearly every flat surface and those still standing were busy ravaging one another mercilessly in the corners. More than once, the rebel leader had to tug upon the princess' sleeve in order to keep her moving.

"There's probably some cooking sherry left in the kitchen if you're desperate," Barry continued, leading them through the dining room, "No? Don't blame you. Never touch the stuff myself. Except in the mornings. I can sort you out a nice orgy later on should the mood take you. What do you say?" Page, utterly disgusted by the offer, promptly turned him down. Seeing the intrigued look in Lyra's eyes, she didn't want to give her time to accept. "Just keep walking, you strange little man." The butler snickered and shrugged as he responded, "Of course, of course. You'll have to pardon me, miss. I do have the habit of spouting the odd vulgarity. Master Reaver has often brought out his whip to rectify that very flaw in my character."

Upon reaching the door at the back of the dining room, Barry gestured towards it and went back to staring at the women's chests. "It's just this way. Oh, you'll have such fun. Not 'drinks and orgies' fun, you know, but it'll be a real laugh. I'm sure. Now, there are some ground rules. Master Reaver insists that nobody carries weapons into the ballroom. There have been some accidents," he said. Lyra placed a hand on the pistol secured on her hip, having no intentions of giving it or the sword on her back up. Page seemed to agree and said, "I'm afraid I need to keep mine. I'm here to find some friends."

Barry looked surprised and delighted upon realizing who the two women were and threw his arms out grandly. "Oh, you're the brave, noble rebels. Why didn't you say so? I'm an oppressed proletarian myself, you know. We're practically comrades," he smirked, bowing to the pair, "If you just go through those doors, you can sneak past the party and rescue your fellow revolutionaries." Both Lyra and Page had their doubts about the sincerity of Barry's words, but they really had no choice but to continue forward. There just wasn't any turning back at this point. So, they pushed through the door into a nearly vacant room.

The door shut and locked behind them, thanks to Barry Hatch, but they were more interested in the cage at the center of the room to notice. "There's one of my men. Kidd! Are you alright?" As Page dashed over to her confined comrade, Lyra studied the interior carefully. Several barred doors lined the walls, giving the princess an odd sense of foreboding. This was anything but a ballroom. Kidd's order confirmed her fears. "Get out! Now!" "Where are the others," Page asked, refusing to budge. Lyra joined her at the cage and began work on the lock with trembling hands. There was a sense of urgency in the air that even she didn't fully understand, but she knew without a doubt that they needed to get out of that room. "All dead," the trapped man said, "Reaver knew you'd come. He's been waiting for you!"

Page gasped as the cage began to lift into the air, taking Lyra with it. "I'll get him out," the princess said, continuing her efforts to pick the lock as she dangled. "My, my, my," came Reaver's easily recognizable voice from the balcony surrounding the upper portion of the room. Lyra immediately dropped down from the cage, forgetting the task at hand to instead gaze upon the masked business tycoon and his leering guests. "More busy little bees here to steal Reaver's honey. So industrious. So committed. So bloody annoying. When will you people learn to enjoy life?" "I'll enjoy killing you," Page growled, "Does that count?" At least the resistance leader could speak. Lyra was a bit too starstruck to form words.

"Oh, you're just full of spunk, aren't you? A true heroine. You must be lightening under the bed sheets," Reaver smirked down at the pair before turning towards his guests, "And now, as promised, the evening's _piece de la resistance_. Hehe, another piece of the resistance." He then wrapped his gloved digits around a nearby lever and cheered, "Viola!" The cage containing Kidd came to a stop high above his rescuers and Reaver waved at the man mockingly before turning his attention back upon Page and Lyra. "Do try to put on a good show for my guests, won't you?" "Show? You expect us to entertain you?" "But of course. It's just a game, my little sweet. The Wheel of Misfortune. It's rather simple. I spin, you die, we watch. Really, it's… it's a riot," he chuckled, tapping his cane against the floor.

The princess' eyes finally tore away from Reaver when the aforementioned wheel suddenly burst into motion, gears at the center spinning a hand in a clockwork fashion. Around the outer ring were several different symbols, many of which Lyra recognized, but two remained a perfect mystery. While her heart was fluttering around inside her chest like a caged bird, she knew there was a time and place for fawning after her idol and this was definitely not it. He did seem rather intent on killing them, after all, and what would Page think if she saw the potential future queen being so enthralled by Reaver? Perhaps it was time to get one's priorities in order. First and foremost, survival.

When the hand landed on the symbol Lyra assumed to be Hobbes, Reaver confirmed her suspicions. "Why, no less than the most unsightly, most obnoxious creatures ever to contaminate this world. Super," he smirked as the corresponding door opened on the right side of the room. The aristocrat and his snickering companions then disappeared through a doorway on the upper level while Page glared after them. "Looks like that's the only way. Page, let's go," Lyra said, drawing her sword and entering the opened door. Reluctantly, the rebel followed her companion. While fighting a horde of angry little goblins was nothing new to the princess, Page worried how they were going to fair.

Once the pair had reached the center of the room, Reaver pranced through the balcony door above and addressed his captives cheerfully. "You will laugh, you will cry, you will have your sinews gnawed upon. Bring out the Hobbes!" Immediately the room was swarmed by the wretched little abominations. Page and Lyra were outnumbered by several dozen of the beasts, but it took roughly five or so Hobbes to equal the fighting ability of the two females. The only thing they found difficult to deal with was the sinister commentary of Barry Hatch and the wild laughter of Reaver's guests. But even as they battled through the Hobbes with relative ease, both women were contemplating their next move. They hadn't failed to keep in mind that there were seven symbols on the Wheel of Misfortune and their _gracious_ host wasn't likely to give up just because they dispatched a single group of slimy Hobbes.

When Lyra pulled her blade from the carcass of the last Hobbe to fall, Reaver sighed and shook his head. "One almost feels sorry for those repugnant beasts. Then one shrugs and waits for the next piece of carnage." He and his guests then took their leave as the barred door was opened, permitting the princess and Page to return to the main room. "Reaver's worse than I thought. What kind of mind dreams up something like this?" Lyra was beginning to wonder that herself. Would she call it 'sick', 'ingenious', or 'twisted'? In the end, she decided on all three, but kept the discovery to herself. It was highly unlikely that the rebel leader would agree with her on the subject. Page was probably thinking more along the lines of 'demented'.

They were forced to battle through three more rooms similar to the first. Hollow men, mercenaries, and then an incredibly wily enemy Reaver and Barry had referred to as Sand Furies. By the third room, Page's exhaustion had reared its ugly head and Lyra had no choice but to take up the slack despite her own injuries. The bullet wound on her shoulder and the slash on her side from the fight with Ferret's men had reopened, but those were the least of her worries. There was another bullet lodged somewhere in her left thigh, compliments of a now decapitated mercenary, and several more deep cuts now seeping her Heroic blood all over Reaver's marble floor. Page wasn't much better off with a Sand Fury sword having been gouged over an inch into her side. She was going to be lucky if nothing vital was hit.

"You holier-than-thou idealists, always thinking in the simplest, most binary of ways," Reaver said as they limped their way back into the main room. Behind him, Barry had set his sights on a rather annoyed-looking female in an emerald gown. "But I quite agree. This game grows tiresome. And my guests, they grow… restless." "No need to get restless, sweetheart. Barry Hatch is here to take care of you. Fancy a quick jig," the butler grinned, slinking up against the woman and patting her on her backside. She gasped and twirled out of his embrace as the Wheel of Misfortune began to spin one final time. When it landed on the symbol Lyra had been dreading, she and Page glared up at the balcony in time to see that the woman Barry was hitting on was no longer a woman at all.

"You're a rough one, ain't ya? I like that in a woman. You're just…" The man turned towards her when her grip on his hand tightened and nearly choked upon seeing the clawed paw wrapped around his squashed fingers. "What! Reaver! Reaver! Help! Aaaaggh!" Poor Barry had tried to pull away from the beast, but it leapt upon him as he reached out for his boss' aid and mauled him viciously while Reaver watched the scene indifferently. "Oh, dear. Do you brutes have any idea how hard it is to find good staff? Still, one might as well enjoy the show. What's the use of a secret society without a little secret, after all?" The creature seemed to give a sort of guttural snicker before bounding over the edge of the balcony. Grinning smugly, the aristocrat peered after it to watch as his other hungry guests joined their pack member on the lower floor.

Page and Lyra backed away slowly as the balverines approached, snapping their jaws ferociously at the women. "This can't be happening… What are they?" The princess drew her pistol and fired as one of the bolder monsters lunged towards them, answering her companion only after it fell dead and was sniffed by its still living kin. "Don't tell me you've never heard of balverines," she laughed, abandoning her pistol in favor of charging a woven spell of fire and vortex, "My mother fought dozens of these things in her day. Told me all about them once. Fascinating creatures, really." "Maybe so, but I'd much rather be hearing about them second hand than personally fighting them," Page said, forcing her sword into the muscular chest of a pouncing balverine. "Agreed," Lyra grinned, unleashing her spell.

Three of the canids were caught up and incinerated by the princess' Will, but three more took their place. It was by far the most difficult battle the pair had faced yet, but somehow they managed to hold their own. "You do handle yourself rather well," Reaver said, seeming to speak to Lyra specifically, "My suspicions about your true nature seem to be correct!" The princess was nearly too distracted by his statement to avoid an incoming swipe from the balverine she was currently fighting. Did he recognize her after all? No, with everything he's done since the day they met, she was certain he didn't even remember meeting the princess of Albion. He obviously knew a Hero when he saw one, however, and that was likely what he was referring to when he mentioned her 'true nature'.

"This is the last party I take you to," Lyra joked once all the balverines were assumed dead. Page turned to grin in return, but instead saw something that made all the color drain from her face. "Look out," she cried, spotting one of the monsters preparing to pounce upon the unsuspecting princess. Lyra whirled around in time to see the balverine's head explode from the impact with the bullet that struck it between the eyes. Their mouths hanging open in disbelief, both women's eyes turned towards the balcony where a smirking Reaver stood with his smoking gun. "Dear me, I missed," he chuckled, sliding the pistol back into his holster, "Well, I must say, you've made me out to be somewhat of a poor host. Rather rude of you to dispose of all my guests."

Page then completely forgot the fact that he had just saved Lyra from a potentially life-threatening attack and aimed her own gun at the man. "Now it's your turn, Reaver," she growled, firing a single bullet. The princess had stepped forward to stop her companion, curious about Reaver's 'miss' and hoping he would explain since she had heard that he never _missed_, but wasn't fast enough. Luckily, the business tycoon was not so easily taken down and he deflected the projectile with a mere flick of his cane. The bullet tumbled through the air and landed harmlessly at the shocked rebel's feet. "Oh, my dear girl, why not stop all this bickering? The three of us could go up to my quarters and have a private party."

Outraged, Page scowled and gestured towards the woman beside her. "Do you have any idea who this is?" Lyra gulped, shaking her head at the resistance leader and grabbing her shoulder. Unfortunately, she was ignored and the proverbial cat was let out of the bag. "It's Logan's sister. The princess!" If looks could kill, Page would have dropped dead from the glare her companion was aiming in her direction. Reaver, however, appeared to be thoroughly intrigued by the news. His dark eyes twinkled behind the mask as he stroked his chin in thought. "The king's sister a bone fide Hero… Well," he said, all interest in the matter seeming to fade, "I wouldn't dream of coming between siblings. Well, that's not strictly true… There was that time…"

He appeared to be lost in thought for a moment before turning to go with a shrug. "Anyway, best of luck with this whole revolution lark. Perhaps we'll meet again one day. Tatty-bye." Page did her best to stop Reaver from leaving, but he disappeared behind the door regardless of her efforts. "Bloody coward," she mumbled, turning to Lyra who was _still_ glaring at her. The woman quirked a brow and was about to ask the princess what her problem was when they were both distracted by the rattling of cage bars. "Would someone mind getting us out of here now?" Laughing lightly, the pair finally released Kidd from his cage and then tended to their wounds as best they could before leaving Reaver's manor. Outside, Page swore her resistance's loyalties to Lyra so long as she promised to change things when she took the throne and just as she had done several times before, the princess made yet another empty promise.

* * *

**I apologize for the lack of a more detailed description of the arena battle in Reaver's Manor. My excuse for not doing it justice is good ol' fashioned laziness (just like the people behind the game, huh? hehe) and my desire to keep each chapter between 2000 and 3000 words. But while I would have loved to add in a bit of Reaver and Page reacting to Lyra's bloodlust, I felt that with so many things on her mind, Lyra wasn't her usual bloodlust-y self. Keep in mind that she still needs Page's support and so she's going to try and be on her best behavior in front of her for as long as she can. Of course, she clearly wasn't pleased when Page spilled the beans about her identity. That was something she wanted Reaver to find out on her own terms.**

**Anyway, next chapter, Lyra finally confronts Walter with that Elliot business. Look for it later today, tonight, or tomorrow. It's finished and I've already began work on chapters 12 and 13 (two that I believe will be my favorites), but I like to wait a little bit between uploads to give you lovelies time to read and review. Not so subtle - HINT HINT. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Here be Chapter 11, as promised. Enjoy. And, as always, thanks for reviews, alerts and favorites!**

* * *

Lyra had known Major Swift was making a mistake when he decided to return to the castle, but she hadn't really expected him to be captured and killed so… swiftly. She had met up with Ben Finn at the castle after hearing a town crier announce that her despicable brother was going to make some kind of speech. She followed Page's suggestion to see what it was about despite the pain she was in from her injuries and found that it was more of a public execution than a royal speech. Ben was devastated and surprisingly, the princess sympathized with him. Major Swift was to him what Walter was to her. Well, what he used to be. She was still unsure of their relationship at that point and after visiting Jasper in the Sanctuary for some more of his famous stitching and a change of clothes, Lyra made her way back to the Bowerstone Resistance's headquarters.

When she came into the strategy room, she found that a conversation was already taking place. It regarded a note that Swift managed to send before his untimely death and Page, of course, was uncertain of its validity. "I still don't understand how anyone there could help us. Aurora is a dead land. There's nothing there," she said, looking at the sandy wasteland on the map. Walter shrugged and said, "Or at least that's what we've been told. It's still the only lead we have anyway." Ben, impatiently fidgeting and, for once, not trying to charm Page, slammed his fists against the circular table. "Can we get on with the plan? I have an overwhelming urge to shoot someone."

"First thing," Walter said, turning towards Lyra, "We'll need a ship. You and Ben will get a hold of one while Page and I make sure the rest of the fleet doesn't follow." The princess frowned and nodded, childishly refusing to speak to the old knight for the time being. "You'll need to go via the back alleys. And they'll be crawling with soldiers," Page warned. "Not a problem," the captain smirked, "I know my way around the place." He then turned to Lyra and bowed his head forward slightly. "I'll meet you at the back of the sewers. We're going to show Logan just what traitors can do." That said, Ben went on ahead to scout their path and gather his own belongings for the trip. "Go on," Page nodded, "My men are putting together the materials we'll need. It should be quite a display."

The resistance leader then sauntered off to attend her own business, leaving Walter and Lyra alone at last. He moved around the table to lay a hand on his protégé's shoulder and spoke in a fatherly tone. "Aurora is a distant place, it could be a while before we return. If there's things you need to do, now's the time." Shrugging off his hand, the princess' took a few steps back, glaring at him. Again he was confused by her coldness towards him and frowned. "There _is_ something I need to do… Why didn't you tell me about Elliot?" Shocked, Walter's lips parted slightly as he struggled to find the words to explain. "He was in Industrial all this time and you let me think he was dead!" The old knight seemed to pat the air between them with both hands, trying to signal her to remain calm. "I didn't think it was anything that concerned you, Lyra. You didn't care about that boy," he said.

Lyra shook her head, teeth grinding as her jaw clenched in anger. "That isn't the point. You shouldn't have kept something like that from me." "I was going to tell you the same night we left the castle, but in the cave under the mausoleum… Don't you remember? You admitted that you let him die on purpose. I didn't see any bloody reason to tell you after that. Why should you care after saying something like that?" Though it was a very good explanation, the princess was not convinced. It wasn't about Elliot being alive or dead, or her having the satisfaction of knowing she was the reason he was dead; it was about one of the only people in the world she trusted keeping something important from her. "Well, I did care," she said, "And I've rectified your mistake."

Walter went rigid and his eyes widened. "What did you say…? Lyra, what did you do, child?" His words were barely above a whisper as he leaned forward slightly. For only a moment, the princess seemed to shrink under his accusing stare, but she boldly lifted her chin and smirked. "I… Well, I killed him, Walter," Lyra said. The man's jaw dropped and he was struck speechless. He had always known the princess could be needlessly cruel and even, at times, downright villainous, but he could have never guessed she was capable of murdering a once close friend. Allowing someone else to execute Elliot had been bad enough, but to think that she could do the deed herself shattered Walter's heart into a million pieces. Where was the sweet little girl that used to sit on his lap and listen to his stories? What ever became of her?

"I… I need to sit down," he said, suddenly feeling very weak and tired, "I can't believe it. When did you become such a… such a heartless wretch?" Lyra frowned deeply at her mentor and took another step back. She shook her head, swallowing hard before saying, "You can't call me that." Looking up at her, eyes blazing, Walter slammed a fist against the surface of the map. As much as it seemed to hurt her to hear it, it hurt the old knight even more to say it, but it couldn't be helped. He was appalled by her behavior and the woman she had become despite all of his efforts to steer her down a righteous path, or at least a neutral one. "Oh? And what would _you_ call yourself? Surely you don't think its okay to go around killing innocent people!"

"You can't call me that," Lyra repeated, her voice rising, "Anyone else can call me whatever they like, but not you!" "Then tell me you didn't kill Elliot. Say it isn't true, if you can. I don't want to think of you as a murderer, but you're not giving me any choice," he growled. The princess took a deep, calming breath whilst glaring at the irate knight. Yelling wasn't going to get her anywhere and she couldn't bring herself to physically hurt Walter no matter what he said to her. He was lucky, in that regard, but Lyra knew of a different way she could get back at him for speaking to her like he had. "I cut out his tongue, you know," she said, smirking coldly. The man shook his head slowly and pointed at her. "Stop it, Lyra. Don't say another word."

The princess shook her head and continued, speaking as though what she had to say was no worse than discussing the weather. "Elliot's last words, if one could call those garbled sputters _words_, sounded distinctly like a cry for help, but I was too busy being fascinated by Boy's unique talent to rip various chunks of flesh from the body without killing the poor sod right off to be sure. I wish _I_ had that sort of finesse. I would have gone straight for the throat if I had been a dog," she said with a shrug, carefully gauging Walter's reaction. Not surprisingly, he didn't take it well, but Lyra could not have guessed he would do what he did next. He struck her. Her fingers grazed the slowly reddening skin of her cheek, eyes watering from the resulting sting.

For what seemed like hours, the pair simply stared at one another in shock. Even Walter was confused by his reaction, but it was the only thing he could think of that would bring her to her senses. The way she was talking, delighting in her own cruelty, was madness. "Lyra… I'm…" The old knight wanted to apologize, though he still felt that she deserved to be slapped, but when the princess' hand dropped from her cheek to her belt, his gaze followed warily. Her fingers twitched over the pistol on her hip as her eyes narrowed on Walter. At the last minute, it seemed, she changed her mind and instead grabbed the Guild Seal. Before he could stop her, she had transported herself to the Sanctuary.

Walter knew that Lyra would come back, or wait in one of her usual spots for him to come and get her. That was the only reason he didn't round up Page and Ben to tell them that they would have to go on with the plan without the princess. She just needed time to cool off, he hoped, and he supposed he did as well. Nothing could ever change the way he felt about that girl or the faith he had in her ability to lead Albion, but it was going to take him a while to get around what she had done and what she was capable of doing. He realized now that he had been fooling himself for a long time about Lyra's true nature. Just like a parent who, blinded by their affection for their child, refuses to believe that they are capable of doing any wrong, Walter had conveniently shielded himself from the truth. "Balls," he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face as he leaned against the map table.

Meanwhile, Lyra had barely stepped foot in the Sanctuary when she patted her leg to signal Boy and then transported them both directly into the Mercenary Camp. Jasper hadn't dared to say a word when he saw the look on his lady's face. Thanks to the Guild Seal, he was fully aware of what had transpired and knew better than to even offer any consolation. He couldn't say that he blamed Walter for what he had done and he quite agreed with the knight that Lyra was becoming somewhat of a villain, but as her loyal butler, he would never turn against her. No matter how bad she became, he would be there by her side, just like Walter and Boy. However tough she was, however strong, she would always need them whether she knew it or not.

At that point in time, of course, Lyra was under the impression that she didn't need anyone, least of all Walter, and would much rather binge drink all of her sorrows away. She and Boy stalked straight into the camp and, without letting on that she was suffering emotionally, declared that the mercenaries were to throw her a going away party. "You're going where? You can't be serious," Saker said as his men began preparations for the celebration, carting out kegs of beer and wine. "I am serious," the woman confirmed, a bottle of rum already in hand, "Aurora. I think I'm actually going to miss all the bloody sewers and caves. That god-forsaken wasteland is going to be a million times worse. Especially with _him_ there."

Saker wasn't quite sure which _him_ she was referring to, but he knew better than to ask. Instead, he slapped the princess on the back and laughed heartily. "Aye, then you better drink up," he said, lifting her bottle-wielding hand towards her mouth as if she needed the encouragement, "Drink 'til your heart's content. Won't be a drop of spirits where you're going." Lyra nodded and tossed her head back as she gulped down several portions of the alcohol. Wiping her mouth with a satisfied sigh, she linked her arm with Saker's for stability and moved with him towards the center of the camp where logs were being piled up for a bonfire. "I'm going to get smashed."

Lyra made good on her word, thoroughly intoxicated even before the bonfire was lit at dusk. She then sang and danced drunkenly around the fire with several of the camp's miscreants and prostitutes who'd been called in to make it a _real_ party, as she would say, sloshing her stein of beer everywhere along the way. The wayward princess even tried to entertain the crowd by bragging that she could shoot an apple off the top of someone's head. Of course, when she tried it with a shaky hand and blurry eyes, she ended up putting a bullet through the poor sod's head instead. Those gathered were still highly amused even so. But as the night wore on, and Lyra's fellow merrymakers began to pass out one by one, she found herself in deep conversation with Saker, who, like her, was able to hold his liquor better than most. He patiently listened to her slurred speech, though his eyes did begin to droop wearily as she prattled on.

"And then… and then he just, he goesh... 'Dear me, I missed'! Reaver doesn't _miss_! He didn't knew me, know me, I mean… 'Til Page, that shewer rat, tol' him. Why'd he do that, hmm? Why? You tell me, 'cause I don't know," Lyra said, swaying slightly in her chair, eyes glazed over. Saker shrugged, his elbow resting on the table and propping up his head. "I dunno, Ly. I never met the man. I hear weird things, though. He's just… weird," he replied, sluggishly lifting his mug to his lips. Lyra followed his example and took another swig of her beverage as well before slamming it down empty. "I'll tell you weird. That shtupit old man, Walter. He's so mad that I killed idiot, I mean Elliot. So _mad_! What did that incompetent little jackass ever do for this country? Not a damn thing. Meanwhile, I'm out here gettin' shot, shtabbed, and beaten regularly because it's my _destiny_… And Walter has the ball to slap me right on my face. That's right, I said it. He's only go _one_! Geez, I _hate_ him."

The princess tried to get up and refill her empty mug, but ended up falling over instead. Saker looked down at her only to find her snickering like a child there on the ground. "I think you've done what you set out to do. Maybe it's time to call it a night," he said groggily, laying his head flat on the table. Lyra stopped laughing and crawled over to wrap her arms around his leg, rubbing her cheek against his knee. "I'm not done yet. I've had my drinks, but now I want my fun. What do you say? You and me…" Though she had made the offer, the woman would have passed out right there at his feet had it not been for the loud snore that erupted from the table above. She peeked up over the edge and scowled. Saker was out cold.

With a sigh, Lyra pulled herself into a standing position with some difficulty. "Boy… Boy, where'd you go?" The dog was nowhere to be seen, so she shrugged and wobbled off towards a pair of male prostitutes leaning against one of the fort-like walls of the camp. "You two all that's left? Shame," she said, stumbling into the men with a giggle. They gladly helped her stay on her feet, though they couldn't really pass for sober themselves. "Well, jusht for that, I'ma give you a generous tip when we're done. My cabin's thisa way." The two men practically had to carry the princess back to her tiny abode and she only had enough consciousness left in her to count out their pay on the dresser and discard her clothes and weapons before passing out across the bed. Without attempting to wake her, or run off with her money and valuables, the prostitutes simply joined her on the bed. Perhaps in the morning, they thought, they would have the chance to earn that gold.

* * *

**Well, Lyra certainly cooled down thanks to Saker's mercenary style of hospitality, but she may regret having partied so hard next chapter. A mercenary camp, even one you are currently sort of the boss of, is not a wise place to pass out, naked and unarmed. Lyra will have to learn that lesson the hard way. Hehe. Oh, and no, it is not fact that Walter has one testicle, not even in my story! That's just the drunken insult of a disgruntled protégé.**

**The next two or so chapters will be among my favorites, so I hope you'll come back for those and, as usual, reviews are appreciated!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Oh, I'm so excited for the release of this chapter and the next one, which will be out very soon. As I've said before, I really think they will be among my favorites for this story and I hope you will all find them as enjoyable to read as I did to write. Maybe it's not 'drinks and orgies' enjoyable, but still!**

**Thank you once again for the reviews. I love reading your opinions, speculations, and comments!**

* * *

Lyra felt a tightness in her lungs that she couldn't explain and her entire body felt heavy. Her blood seemed to have been replaced by ice water and she could feel the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickling. When she opened her eyes, she had to blink a few times to make sure they were actually open. She couldn't see a thing, but she felt warm winds blowing against her bare flesh, carrying with it a gritty substance she assumed to be sand. The princess then raised her arm, swiping her hand in front of her face several times, hoping her vision was fooling her into thinking it was darker than it actually was and she wasn't blind. Unfortunately, the action did little to solve the mystery.

"He… Hello? Where…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the question. Her voice bounced off unseen walls, echoing back at her a dozen times before falling silent. She cringed, trying to move her legs to propel herself forward, but she couldn't be sure she was actually moving. Still, she urged herself onward, running as fast as she was able and, when that didn't seem to get her anywhere, she cried out her frustration. Her piercing scream seemed to bounce off a thousand surfaces, deafening her for a time. "We welcome you into our dark embrace," came a voice that had no echo, "You have earned your place here among the children. We have waited so patiently for you. A sinful creature with a twisted, blackened soul. Just like the children."

Lyra held her hands out in front of her, trying to feel for the unseen person speaking those cryptic words, but there was nothing but the warm, sandy wind. "Who's there? Where am I? What's going on?" She spoke softly so that her voice would not carry too far. "We are here, you are here. We are together," _it_ snickered. The princess, feeling something brush past her body, began to flail wildly. She was blind and had no weapons, no gauntlets, no dog or friend. She had never felt so helpless in all her life. "Let me out," she demanded, "I want out!" The thing laughed at her, angering her further. But just as she was about to shout another order, something hideous appeared before her eyes just long enough to make her skin crawl. A face, gaunt and shriveled with sunken eyes that seemed to look into her very soul. "We will come again. You are tainted. The stain will never wash out. The sun will never shine upon you again. Tainted… broken little toy…"

Lyra's eyes snapped open and she realized she had been dreaming, but the nightmarish creature and his foreboding words had not been what woke her. She stared calmly into the face of the rifle-wielding intruder, fingers instinctively searching the edge of the bed where her own weapons should have been. A crooked line broke across the man's darkened features as he grinned at her futile attempt. "Afraid not, love. My associate is tending to your weaponry," Merv smirked, jerking his head towards the opposite side of the small room. Slowly, the princess' eyes traveled in that direction only to land on another recognizable face. One-Eyed Jake cocked Lyra's pistol and aimed it at her head as he secured her sword on his hip next to his own.

They were two of Saker's men; men who were supposed to abide by his word that no one at the camp would harass her in any way. So much for her safe haven. "Now," Merv said, tapping the tip of the rebel princess' nose gently with his rifle, "Kindly ask your _friends_ to gather their belongings and be on their way." Lyra's gaze shifted again, this time falling upon the pair of trembling, wide-eyed men sharing her bed. "Get out," she ordered, recognizing the prostitutes from earlier that night and, despite knowing that they had never actually performed their duty, pointed them towards the dresser, "You'll find your pay there by the door." They rushed to comply, grabbing their clothes and their forty gold pieces before fleeing.

Once the prostitutes were gone, Merv nodded towards Lyra and said, "Okay, now you." He backed off a bit to give her room to obey and watched her throw back the sheets she had somehow gotten beneath while sleeping. Apparently both men were caught off guard by her nudity despite having the foreknowledge that she'd just spent the night with two whores and stared lecherously at her supple, bare skin as she swung her legs off the bed and stood. "Never pegged you for one o' those types, Princess. Takin' on two blokes at once," Jake grinned, licking his lips as his solitary eye traveled up and down her slender form. "Yeah, well," she smirked, pulling on a long nightgown Merv had just rummaged from the dresser for her, "The lady harlots were all claimed for the night or else you could have been even more impressed." The mercenaries exchanged a perverted grin before Merv gestured towards the door. "Alright. We're gonna take a little trip. Your chariot awaits, your highness."

Lyra strolled out the open door casually with the filthy pair ushering her with their guns from behind. She shivered when the early morning air hit her, cutting straight through the thin fabric of her nightgown, but she supposed it could have been worse if they hadn't bothered to let her put on something before the abduction. Other than the chill she was now suffering from, she showed little other concern for her situation as she paused on the small porch to survey the quiet camp. A few of last night's partiers were still sleeping soundly where they had dropped while others seemed to have woken at some point and stumbled to their beds. Saker, apparently, was one of the later. He wasn't at the table where she had left him. For a moment she wondered if he was behind this whole thing but decided against it. He had given his word and though it was still possible a man like him would go back on it, she knew he wasn't foolish enough to think he could turn her in for a reward, which is what she believed Merv and Jake had planned.

The sun had yet to make an appearance, but Lyra knew by the sinking moon that it was very close to dawn. She was momentarily reminded of her dream, shuttering again at the thought. _"The sun will never shine upon you again."_ What a nightmare that had been. Trapped in darkness and being taunted by some unseen foe. She hoped to never be in a situation like that again, dream or not. So, she pushed it to the back of her mind and focused on her current situation instead. Since the sun had yet to rise, no one who had had any fun at the party last night was likely to wake up and offer any assistance.

With a yawn, Lyra realized she had gotten no more than three hours of sleep before Merv and One-Eyed Jake showed up and though her head was still swimming in a few gallons of various alcohols, being kidnapped was a rather sobering ordeal. Walking was still a bit of a chore, but with gun barrels constantly prodding her, driving her towards a waiting carriage, she managed well enough. Every so often she would spare a look to the left or right, almost expecting to see her faithful dog charging towards her captors, but Boy was still at large and she wondered where he had buggered off to for so long. It wasn't like him to stray too far. The one time the princess needed him to be his vicious little self and couldn't handle things herself, he was nowhere to be found.

"I suppose you're wonderin' about that mangy mutt, eh?" Merv nearly whispered the words as they neared the horse drawn buggy, fearful of being heard by his fellow mercenaries. His attempt to keep things quiet and inconspicuous confirmed her hunch that these two morons were acting of their own volition. "Well, you ain't gotta worry. Greedy little bastard woofed down a whole loaf of One-Eye's famous drowsy bread. He'll be sleepin' like a babe 'til well after daybreak," the man snickered, climbing onto the front seat and taking up the reins. Lyra frowned and said, "I don't think Saker will approve of his men going against his orders, you know." "He ain't gonna find out," Jake said, shoving her into the carriage and jumping in beside her, "He's not gonna be wakin' up anytime soon either. We drugged his last mug of beer."

Lyra simply shook her head and laughed as the horse pulled the carriage down the worn track towards the gates of the camp. "I'm almost impressed, boys. You managed to formulate at least a half-baked plan," she said, flinching when One-Eyed Jake poked her ribs with her own pistol to shut her up, "But I wonder. What do you suppose will go through Saker's mind when he wakes up and sees Boy running around without me? Don't you think he might get suspicious and ask around? I bet those prostitutes will be more than happy to tell him how I was whisked away by two such _handsome_ devils. And that's just if they haven't already made it to his cabin and started on waking the lazy sod." Merv took his eyes off the path ahead to look at his friend in shock. Jake pointed an accusing finger at him and asked, "Why'd you let those two blokes go!" "Why'd _you_ put the dog in that cage! Saker's gonna know somethin' fishy happened and WE were supposed to be on guard duty," the rifleman panicked.

The princess laughed again as her captors exchanged blame and insults, but they soon ceased the argument when they realized how much amusement she was getting out of it. "She's just messin' with us, One-Eye. It's a good plan. She's just tryin' to turn us against each other." "Yeah, you're right," Jake said, turning his attention back to the woman as they passed through the gates, "Besides, after we get our pay, we won't have to come back to this dump anyway. Saker won't be able to touch us." Lyra shook her head and sighed. She looked up at the sky, wondering how much more aggravation she was going to have to suffer this week. "If whoever hired you doesn't kill you the moment you hand me over, I will," she promised, crossing her arms and legs haughtily. "He'll pay. He'll pay well for you. We have his word. And you're in no position to be making threats like that, love," Merv smirked.

What seemed like hours ticked away as the carriage traveled along the bumpy road, but the sun had only just begun to peek over the horizon. Lyra had dozed off a few times only to be jarred awake by the sharp jab of a pistol to her ribs. She really did overdo the drinking portion of that night's festivities, which was why these two otherwise incompetent fools had managed to sneak up on her the way they had. The princess promised herself that she'd never make the same mistake again, just as she had pledged a dozen times before while suffering from a hangover. Sighing as she was poked again, she decided to survey the slowly brightening landscape with weary eyes to see if she could determine their location or perhaps even their destination.

Lyra's surroundings were, in fact, quite familiar. It was Millfields. She suddenly realized with great dread the name of the man who had sent Merv and Jake to abduct her. "Oh, you're _definitely_ going to be shot," she said, despite her own reservations about reaching that large manor in the distance. The man sitting next to her scowled and pressed the pistol to her temple. "Not before you if you keep that up. I've had about enough of your threats." The princess merely sneered at the gun, boldly turning to stare down the barrel. "How do you know? Are you trying to say that you can _actually_ count, you scum-sucking charlatan?" Growling, Jake pushed the gun against her cheek roughly, prepared to pull the trigger then and there until a hand reached back and gently lowered the barrel. "Easy, One-Eye. We're almost there and we'll be rid of the sassy tart," Merv chuckled.

Frowning, the mercenary settled for glaring at his prisoner the rest of the way, realizing that they would not be paid for a corpse. Still, as they pulled up in front of the mansion, he thought it would be oh so satisfying to put a bullet through her pretty face. "Okay, move it," Merv said, jerking his head towards the manor's double doors as he jumped off the carriage and took out his rifle. Lyra did as told with a groan, but not before receiving yet another jab to her ribs from Jake. Her jaw clenched angrily. She was becoming quite agitated by the fact that her own gun was being used to poke and prod her, but she said nothing. The opportunity for her to repay the man for his _kindness _would likely be very soon. For now, though, the princess was ushered towards the door, her gut twisting into knots as she was forced to enter this particular abode for the second time.

Upon entering, all three were greeted by an aged butler Lyra supposed had taken Barry Hatch's place following his unfortunate mauling at the masquerade. "Master Reaver has been eagerly awaiting your arrival," he said, bowing his head, "Please, would you all follow me into the parlor?" The butler then shuffled off to the left of the entrance with Merv, One-Eyed Jake, and their captive in tow. "What's a parlor?" The woman rolled her eyes at Jake's whispered question and bit back an insult. Instead of answering, she ignored him completely so that she could remain calm and calculate the likelihood of actually getting out of this mansion alive a second time. The odds weren't good, but she had to admit, there was no one she'd rather go down fighting against for her life than Reaver.

Lyra assumed the aristocrat had hired the mercenaries to deliver her to him alive only so that he could then betray them and sell her off to Logan himself. Since she had tried, ever since that first meeting with him, to think the way he did, she felt pretty confident in her conclusion. Obviously, he had had plenty of time since the masquerade to mull over the type of reward the king would offer for his traitorous sister's return to the castle and he was looking to collect. Well, she wasn't going to make it easy for him no matter how much she admired him. There was no way the princess would allow herself to be taken back to Logan. She would die first. Weapons or no, she would fight back, however short a fight it turned out to be.

* * *

**Lyra, Lyra, Lyra. What sort of death wish do you have, girl? Well, looks like our princess may finally have some one on one time with her idol after five long years, but it's highly unlikely that things will play out quite the same way they did back then.**

**Ah yes, and as for the first part of this chapter, I decided to give Lyra a little premonition. She doesn't know that's what it is, but I thought it fitting. I have a feeling the Crawler might take special interest in someone like her and my little gears are turning for the future scenes in Aurora.**

**But for now, onward! What does Reaver want? How will Lyra react to whatever it is? Will One-Eyed Jake get what his cycloptic ass has coming? Will he ever figure out what a parlor is? :P All will be answered in chapter 13!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Woot! Chapter 13 is here and I do believe I am tickled pink. I've actually surprised myself by being able to keep chapters coming out fairly often, but I think that is thanks to my readers and their reviews. Anyway, I feel it necessary to remind you all that this story **_**is**_** rated M before you start reading this chapter. I probably shoulda put that reminder at the top of the chapter where Elliot had his tongue cut out too, since that was pretty violent, but oops, I didn't. :P Also, if you'd like to see a Reaver fanart I created of Lyra and her idol, please visit my profile page to find my dA link.**

* * *

"Ah, delightful. My guest has arrived at last," Reaver said cheerfully, raising his chalice of wine as the trio entered the room behind his servant. The butler then took his leave, closing the doors behind him on his way out. "We brought the princess for ya, just like we promised," Merv said, nudging the girl towards the fireplace where the industrial tycoon stood smirking. "Yeah, just like we said," added One-Eyed Jake with a laugh, "She didn't even put up a fight. We got her while she was sleepin', passed out with two whores." Lyra let out an annoyed grunt as she was nudged onward a second time and avoided looking directly at the finely dressed aristocrat while he quirked a brow at the mercenary's statement. "_Really_…" he grinned, eyeing the woman skeptically, "Well, you've done your job, boys. I suppose it's time for your reward."

Merv and Jake both stepped ahead of the princess, obviously eager for their pay as the man placed his wine on the hearth and patted down the front of his vest. Reaver then feigned a pout when he couldn't find what he was looking for and said with a tsk, "Oh, dear me. I seem to have left your gold in my coat upstairs." The mercenaries frowned and looked at one another curiously, failing to notice their host's hand dropping instead to his holstered pistol. Lyra tensed, waiting for her chance and hoping things would work out the way she figured. "Well, sir, we don't mind waiting while you send for it," Merv said as he turned his attention back to Reaver only to have his jaw drop upon seeing the gun aimed so perfectly between his eyes. "Inconvenient," the businessman sighed, firing once into the man's skull.

One-Eyed Jake gasped as his partner crumpled to the floor and then raised his pilfered pistol to retaliate. Lyra's reflexes, however, were much faster than his, despite her still intoxicated state, and she grabbed his arm, twisting it around in an unnatural angle so that the barrel rested against his own ribs. Leaning close to his ear, she grinned and hissed frightening words as he struggled in vain. "I warned you, you bastard. I said I'd shoot you. How do you like having a gun jabbed in _your_ ribs!" The princess pulled the trigger and then dug the barrel deeper into the resulting hole, causing Jake to wince and scream. The pain had to be excruciating. "It doesn't feel good, does it? My only regret is that I can only kill you once," she said, firing twice more, burying the pistol deeper with each pull of the trigger.

Lyra would have gladly plunged her entire hand into the man's eviscerated chest cavity, shooting until she ran out of ammo, but the gun jammed by the third shot and so she had to give up and let him fall to the floor with his dead comrade. Honestly, he was dead by the second shot, but the wayward princess refused to think he had had enough. She was likely to have bruises from all of his unnecessary prodding, after all, and her side was already a tender area from previous scraps. So, since her gun was useless, she considered stomping his face with her bare feet until she remembered she wasn't alone. She lowered her raised foot and spared a shy glance towards Reaver, who grinned back at her as if what she had just done was the most natural thing in the world.

"Charming show, my dear," he drawled, cocking his pistol and aiming it towards her head this time, "Now be a good girl and drop your weapon." Lyra scowled and shut her eyes, her gun clattering to the floor beside the two corpses. It wasn't operational at the moment, of course, but it still made her feel better to have it on hand. Slowly, the princess turned fully to face the man and reopened her eyes. "Alright, so now what? Do we take yet another pleasant carriage ride across the countryside to Bowerstone Castle? Because honestly, I'm drunk and exhausted," she said, crossing her arms over the bloodstained nightgown. Reaver chuckled, holstering his pistol in an overly showy manner. It was by no means an invitation for her to leave, but he apparently wished for some sort of civil conversation.

Retrieving his wine from atop the fireplace, the aristocrat took a seat in one of the luxurious armchairs. He gestured towards the one opposite his person for his guest, but she was reluctant to move. Lyra's eyes momentarily dropped towards her favored blade, still strapped to One-Eye's hip, but she abandoned any hope of getting to it before Reaver shot off a few of her fingers, or worse. With a sigh, the princess stepped over the bodies and took the seat across from her idol. "I'm hurt," he began, seeming to study every inch of her as she fidgeted uncomfortably in the chair, "that you so readily leapt to the conclusion that I have plans to hand you over to your dear brother." "Oh, forgive me for not realizing that this was a social call. Of course," she said sarcastically, "Everyone has their guests abducted before dawn and dragged into their homes wearing nothing but a nightgown."

Reaver smirked and placed his now empty chalice on a small table beside his chair. "I would have preferred less, of course, but I digress. I thought we had an understanding, my sweet. I didn't turn you in before, and I have no intentions of doing so now." The princess' brows knitted together and she feared she may have been blushing as she studied him warily. So, he did remember their first meeting. But that didn't explain why he wasn't going to try and collect the bounty on her head. She had been nothing more than a runaway before, but these days she was a traitor to the crown and Logan was likely to reward the businessman well if his sister happened to be returned in time for a morning execution.

"Then… this has something to do with revenge? To think, I could be _killed_ for crashing a party," Lyra scoffed. "Not at all," Reaver laughed, "Again, you make wild assumptions that simply aren't true, my dear. Of course, as I recall, you and your friend had come for _my_ head, but that's entirely beside the point. No, I don't hold such petty grudges. Not when the world is so much more interesting with you in it." The princess felt that old familiar fluttering in her chest, but she hesitated to believe the man. He was the king of flattery, but clearly he held her life in his hands and could easily snuff it out at any given moment. There was no need for tricks now. Unless he had some overly complex plan to slowly torture her, which she didn't doubt for a second.

Lyra looked towards the fire and watched the dancing flames for a moment, trying to think of a reason he would have her here other than revenge or profit. She could think of nothing and sighed, turning her attention back to Reaver. "Okay, then you may consider me stumped. Why have me dragged out of bed and carted halfway across Albion before sunrise?" The man chuckled and waved a finger at her as he stood up. With hands clasped firmly behind his back, he strolled towards the desk on the other side of the room, Lyra's eyes following his every movement. "Ah, now that's the question, isn't it? Why _would_ I send for you at such an ungodly hour? Well, to be perfectly honest, the timing has absolutely nothing to do with it. I was awake, I was bored, and I recalled two of the lowly mercenaries I hired to work in my arena carelessly discussing the royal guest in their camp. So, I decided to cross off one of the things on my to-do list early by _inviting_ you here. There's something we need to discuss, you see."

The princess frowned, wondering what he could possibly have in mind. It couldn't have anything to do with the revolution, could it? He had shown no interest in getting involved with the current power struggle at the masquerade. "I… I'm listening," she said, though her tone seemed to indicate she was not thrilled to do so. Reaver spun around on his heel to face her and grinned. Whether he was pleased that she was willing to listen or because he knew she didn't have a choice in the matter, she wasn't sure. "Excellent. After your gallant rescue of that wretched rebel I had so generously housed, it occurred to me that with you being the _true_ heir to your mother's heroic genes, your revolution just might be a success. Imagine my surprise," Reaver told her, moving back to his seat and sinking into the inviting cushions.

Lyra shifted uncomfortably in her own chair, the blood soaking through her nightgown beginning to dry against her skin. "Yes, well, I wouldn't be so sure. I'm beginning to think that I'm not exactly queen material," she smirked, finding it incredibly liberating to be able to discuss this with someone who wouldn't look upon her in horror afterwards, "I murder, cheat, steal, and lie. And most people do not think it very queen-like to be found keeping with whores as often as I do. I've done my best to fool the rabble into thinking I'm their savior, but there's only so much I can keep hidden. It's becoming tiresome. I'm sure you can relate."

Reaver clearly wasn't expecting such a detailed confession of the princess' habits, but he found it quite amusing nonetheless. "My, my, my. You've changed quite a bit since that day in the ally, haven't you? How _delicious_. My starry-eyed little runaway has blossomed into a depraved villain... Wouldn't have anything to do with _me_, would it?" His lips curled into a knowing grin, but Lyra would not readily admit to it. She couldn't come right out and say how that one meeting had molded her into the unapologetic devil of a woman she was today. "You're certainly full of yourself. I suppose you played a small part in it, though," the princess lied with a grin of her own. And then, having had enough of the irritating thing, she stood up and removed her nightgown. "It would seem that I'm not the only one, my sweet," he said with a smirk once the initial surprise wore off, "Are you planning to seduce me and then flee before we have a chance to discuss a mutually beneficial contract for your little coup d'etat?"

The man's eyes narrowed upon Lyra as she dropped the stained gown to the floor, roaming over every bend and curve of her unclothed flesh. Shamelessly standing there before him, the princess laughed at his question and shook her head. "Now why would I do a thing like that? Your support would be invaluable. I'd be more than happy to negotiate with you, but that thing was getting rather annoying. I wish to be comfortable for the undoubtedly long, drawn-out discussion ahead, and it doesn't get more comfortable than this," she giggled, her confidence and giddiness quite possibly coming from the alcohol still lingering in her veins. Reaver didn't seem to mind either way and beckoned her closer. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Princess. Things can become _much_ more accommodating, but I warn you," he said, taking her hand and tugging her down onto his lap, "If you think you have the cunning to deceive me, you're dead wrong."

Lyra leaned closer and toyed with his cravat as he took hold of her shapely hips. "Now who's making wild assumptions?" They both smirked before Reaver covered her mouth with his own, taking her breath away. He then pulled away, gasping for air, and grabbed a handful of her hair, jerking her head back roughly. "Get on the floor," he ordered through clenched, grinning teeth, barely giving the princess time to comply before standing up. She said nothing and simply laid herself back against the warm rug in front of the fire, gazing up at the man now standing over her. He obviously had no qualms about taking advantage of a drunken, sleep deprived female, but she would argue that she was fully and completely in control of her actions. It wasn't like she hadn't dreamt of this moment before. But the rest was like a blur. The next thing she knew, he had mounted her and smothered her lips with his while she tried desperately to figure out if she _was_ dreaming.

Was it really possible that she had both met her idol and managed to persuade him into a bit of casual sex as well? It didn't seem likely, but there she was, writhing on the floor beneath Reaver as he gladly demonstrated his years of experience in the act. Her back arched when he hit an especially sensitive area, sending her into a fit of excited whimpers that he silenced with smirking lips pressed to hers. What seemed like an eternity of intoxicating pleasure later, Lyra was crying out his name and he emitted a grunt of satisfaction upon the sweet release. Collapsing on top of her, Reaver's panting mouth blew hot, tickling waves of air across the glistening skin of her neck as her chest heaved gently in an attempt to catch her breath. She clung to him, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if she thought they'd both float away to the afterlife from exerting themselves the way they had.

It had been a long time since Lyra had experienced such complete satisfaction, especially through only one lover. Somehow, though, she had expected it to be that way. She had imagined herself in that situation several times since their first meeting and each time, she had needed to find multiple partners to fill Reaver's role in her fantasy. And what an exceptionally skilled lover he was. She had always been rather confident in her own abilities, but she understood now that she had a long way to go to be on par with the immortal. Of course, a sober mind might have helped her make more of an effort and she _was_ in a bit of a daze. The princess knew that the experience wasn't likely to be one of his more memorable encounters, but Reaver had obviously enjoyed himself judging by the satisfied grin on his face when he rolled off of her and got to his feet.

Lyra sat up and watched the aristocrat fasten his trousers before strapping his holster back onto his hip. He then took his seat and crossed his legs comfortably. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes. As I was saying, I still have my doubts about this whole revolution, but being the shrewd businessman that I am, I think it wise to cover my bases, as they say." The princess admired how easily he made the transition from lover back to pistol-toting captor and she appreciated there not being any awkward periods in between. But before she bothered responding to his statement, she reached over to Merv and swiped his mercenary coat. It wasn't much and he certainly wasn't going to be needing it, but it would cover most of the bits that made her feel vulnerable.

"That makes perfect sense, but what could I possibly have to offer you, even as a queen? You already wield nearly as much power and influence as the king," Lyra said, donning the garment as he watched, "and you don't appear to be in need of anything in particular." Reaver shrugged and lifted the chalice he had abandoned earlier only to frown as if forgetting it was empty. He stood and returned to the desk by the window to pour himself another helping and then a second one for his guest. When he finished, he handed the second goblet off to her on his way back to his chair. The princess wasn't really in the mood for more drinking, but it probably wasn't often that the man served his partners expensive wine afterwards, so she sipped it politely.

After slating his own thirst, Reaver spoke in a lackluster tone which, from her experience, was quite unlike him. "I believe you would be surprised, my dear. Even though Industrial could easily be considered _mine_, the great, pigheaded king still has the final word on everything that goes on there. There are several… improvements I would like to make to that dreadful district, but my proposals are, more often than not, denied by that incorrigible brother of yours." Lyra nodded slowly, scooting a bit closer to the fire to warm her exposed skin. She was beginning to see what he was getting at and she couldn't help but be amused by the fact that what he wanted from her would definitely conflict with what she had promised Page. Well, it wasn't like she planned to follow through with most of the promises she made since this whole thing began anyway.

"So, if I give you complete control over Industrial once I'm queen, you'll give me what, exactly? You can't very well openly support me. If things go sour, you'll have burned your bridges with Logan," Lyra said. Reaver smirked and waved a finger at her in a tsking fashion. "You're getting ahead of yourself, my nefarious pet. I never said that I only wanted absolute control over Industrial in exchange for my, as you said, invaluable aid. What I have in mind has much longer termed benefits. For both of us, I dare say. _Really_, I think you'll find it to be quite the irresistible offer." The princess nodded, though she was beginning to worry. She knew Reaver was not as foolish as the others she had negotiated contracts with so far. He wasn't likely to request anything he couldn't be certain she would honor after the fact. So, for both their sakes, she hoped it _was_ something she'd be willing to grant him.

* * *

**Whoa, they just jumped right in, didn't they? Hehe. Well, I think it would be fairly common for both Reaver and Lyra to engage in such sexual encounters and then be able to move on without any sort of emotional attachment to their partner. I've tried to make it obvious so far that Lyra doesn't **_**love**_** Reaver. She admires him and only wants to model her own life after his as best she can. I suppose there's some lust mixed in there too. As for his part, he more or less just wanted to dominate her. She didn't seduce him by any means. If anything, it was the fact that she was vulnerable that enticed him. Bleh, anyway. What am I talking for? I should let you all interpret it however you want until the story either confirms or rejects your interpretation. Hehe. See ya next chapter!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry this came out a little later than I meant for it to. I've been busy, busy lately. Holidays and whatnot. Which is also why this chapter is another of my least favorites. I couldn't seem to find the concentration I needed to write it the way I wanted to, but I suppose it still moves things along. Hehe. Oh, and as always, your reviews are appreciated. Thank you to all those who took the time to leave one!**

* * *

Lyra shivered as she exited the parlor behind Reaver, the foyer being several degrees cooler than the fire-heated room she was leaving behind. The tycoon's butler immediately opened the main doors upon their approach, but as the princess attempted to walk past her host and leave, he caught her right hand and jerked her back against his chest roughly. Still gripping her hand firmly, his left hand snaked around her waist and came to rest on her stomach as he leaned down so that his lips brushed against her ear. The princess stiffened and swallowed nervously. "Remember, my darling little usurper," he said, his left hand slipping inside the mercenary jacket to fill his palm with her breast while he pulled her hand to his lips and spoke against her knuckles, "You have neither the wit nor the guile to double cross me. I'll expect an audience with you _immediately_ after the coronation, should there be one." He chuckled darkly and then released her.

The startled woman staggered forward a few steps before glancing back at him and frowning. That was definitely the most… _sensual_ threat she had ever received. "And that is assuming you'll actually return from that intolerable dust-bowl overseas. Oh, but I _do_ have the utmost confidence in you, of course," he said, making a shooing motion with his hands as if she were free to leave now and indeed encouraged to do so. "Of course," Lyra scoffed, rolling her eyes as she moved out the door at last, "Just make sure Saker and his men get every bit of what you promised." That said, the princess stumbled her way down the front steps. She was tired and hung over, but perhaps the worst of it was the soreness in her thighs from the 'negotiation' with Reaver.

As the potential queen took her leave on bare foot, forgoing the carriage she arrived on, Reaver watched her from the entranceway with a smirk. He drew his pistol and aimed it at her departing form, thinking how simple it would be to shoot the woman and save himself the trouble of this whole thing. After all, he still wasn't entirely convinced she had even a slim chance at succeeding, though the fact that she was a Hero certainly increased the odds. It didn't make up for the fact that going up against Logan and his armies was a completely different matter than what she was going to face in Aurora, of course. He had been there once and the experience had not been pleasant, not even for him. But that was long ago. Perhaps that _thing_ wasn't even there now; which was why he neglected to mention it to his newest conquest.

Reaver chuckled to himself and holstered the pistol. If she made it back alive, he might find it in himself to give her a modicum of respect, but all he really cared about was achieving his own goals. Her brother had proven himself to be quite the tyrant, but Lyra, now she was a monarch the business tycoon could see himself serving under, or over. Whichever position she preferred. She seemed to possess an even smaller degree of compassion for the people than the current king, which was why sitting her on the throne would benefit him in the end. Logan had done terrible things during his reign in the name of profit, but what the people didn't seem to realize was that things could be so much worse. Reaver wasn't exactly _trying_ to cause misery, but it always seemed to be a byproduct of his own personal success.

Lyra dropped her hand away from her pistol when she heard the doors of Reaver's manor finally close behind her. She smiled to herself in relief. For a second, she actually thought he might pull the trigger. She supposed it had something to do with convenience, but it was nice to know the man was greedier than he was lazy. As long as she was alive, he could very well be in for a much richer future, and that was probably the only reason she was still breathing. It was obvious that to him she was merely a thing to be used, but she understood and accepted that because she felt the same way about him and everyone else she had allied herself with so far. Well, perhaps he _did_ mean a little more to her than that since he was the reason she enjoyed life as much as she did, but should he ever prove himself to be less than the perfect, diabolical genius of a man she had in her head, she wouldn't hesitant to abandon that mild sense of attachment.

By midday, Lyra had made good progress towards the Mercenary Camp. She was already trekking her way along the well-worn path around Mistpeak's lake and would arrive at her destination shortly, but even being this close wasn't quite close enough for the exhausted princess. Everything ached and her head throbbed. She had never missed the Guild Seal and fast travel more, but it was likely still amongst her discarded clothes in her cabin. More than once she had stumbled, falling flat on her face, and hesitated to get up. But if she had closed her eyes, she feared, she wouldn't have opened them again for at least the rest of the day. It wouldn't be wise to pass out on the road dressed in nothing but a coat. Bandits and wolves stalked the area around the lake, after all, and she would make an easy target in her current state.

That lumpy bed and ramshackle cabin was looking more like a palace with every step she took. Unfortunately, Lyra knew that even once she got there she would only have time to retrieve her belongings and Boy before setting off again for Bowerstone. Ben was probably getting antsy waiting for her and though she still harbored a few ill feelings towards Walter, she supposed he might be getting worried too. If knowing she had killed Elliot in cold blood had upset him, she could only imagine how he would react to knowing she had not only negotiated a contract with Reaver, but had sex with him as well. She couldn't help but to snicker at the thought, but that was something the princess would definitely keep to herself. At least for now. There would come a time when everyone would know she was in cahoots with the Hero of Skill.

At long last, Lyra's sore feet carried her into the Mercenary Camp. She could hear Boy barking his little heart out somewhere further in and she supposed he must still be caged or else he would have come running up to her by now. He could wait right where he was. It would teach him to take bread from strangers in the future. For now, she just wanted to get dressed and discuss her newest plot with Saker. However, when she rounded a bend in the road, she saw her path was blocked by a large gathering of the resident mercenaries. They had formed a half-circle around Saker and… Walter. What on earth was he doing there? Without being noticed, Lyra walked right up to the back of the crowd and listened in.

"You'd better hope she's alright or else I'm going to kill every last one of you and burn this bloody place to the ground," the old knight said, poking his finger into Saker's chest. The other man sneered and removed his cigar to exhale a cloud of acrid smoke into Walter's face before replying to the threat. "I'd like to see you try it, _old_ man. I already told you. I'll have the whole camp out looking for her if you'll back off and let me organize my men into search parties. But if you'd rather I kick your ancient ass first, I'll happily oblige you, mate." And that was where Lyra decided she had heard enough. She broke through the crowd and stepped between the men before either could go for their weapons. "Put a pin in that one, Saker. Save it for later," she smirked, shocking both men with her sudden appearance.

"Balls! Are you alright? Where have you been? Where are your _clothes_!" "Who was it? Merv and One-Eye? Where are they? I'm going to string them up by their balls!" Lyra cringed as she was bombarded with questions from both sides and quickly put her hands up to silence the two before her throbbing head exploded. "Bloody hell! Calm down, will you? I'm fine, I'm fine. And those two are quite dead, I assure you," she said, overlapping the front of her coat tightly to keep herself decent in front of Walter. "Well… I'm glad to see you're alright. I suppose I should have known you could take care of yourself. There were only two of them, after all," her mentor said. It almost made her laugh how quickly he dropped that fatherly demeanor the moment she turned up completely unharmed. Still, she couldn't help but to feel at least a twinge of joy at knowing that despite their argument, Walter had come after her just like he always did.

Once the crowd had somewhat dissipated, Saker draped his arm around Lyra's shoulders and drew her close in a friendly manner as they moved towards her cabin. Walter followed with a scowl, not liking the gesture no matter how 'friendly' it was, but he said nothing. "So what was their big plan anyway? I hope they weren't stupid enough to think they could turn you in to the king personally. They were wanted men, you know." The princess laughed and nodded. Of course she couldn't tell him the truth; at least not so long as Walter was within earshot. "That's exactly what they wanted to do. They never seemed all that bright to me, but I'll admit it came as a shock to me as well. I had to wait a while before I sobered up enough to deal with them or I would have been back ages ago. Now I don't even have time for a nap," she groaned.

Saker chuckled and released Lyra once they reached her cabin. The door was still standing wide open and she could see her belongings scattered around the floor just the way she had left them. "That's too bad. I suppose you'll have to catch up on your rest on the boat," he said, squeezing her shoulder lightly, "Well, I'll have someone free your mutt. We were a bit reluctant to let him out until we had you back for fear of being mauled." The man chortled again before turning to go, exchanging a final glare with Walter on his way. "Fine, but I need to talk to you before I leave. Wait for me at the gate," the princess said, moving into her one-room shack. Saker waved over his shoulder, acknowledging the order, and continued on his way.

While Lyra busied herself getting dressed and gathering her things for the trip ahead, Walter leaned himself against the front wall of the cabin and frowned. He crossed his arms and uncrossed them again; fidgeting as he considered all the things he should be saying to the young woman. Just about anything the old knight could say regarding Elliot would only lead to more yelling and he certainly didn't want that. Not right now. As much as it still upset him, he knew that some things just couldn't be brought up again. There was one thing that he couldn't leave alone, though. "You know that I didn't mean it. I know you do," he said, closing his eyes.

Inside the cabin, Lyra lowered the blouse she had been considering and ran a finger down the cheek her mentor had struck. With a sigh, she dropped her gaze to the floor. "I know…" "Good," Walter nodded, reopening his eyes, "If you can forgive me for that, I can try and accept what you've become." The princess sighed again, pulling the blouse on over her head and then slipping on the accompanying corset. "For years I've been following your lead, Walter. I've done just about everything you've asked of me. I can't believe you don't know me any better than you do. I suppose I've been waiting for you to turn around and look back; to see what's been following you. I haven't changed. I've always been this way and I'm only sorry you think otherwise because I know how much you feel I've disappointed you."

Walter smirked, knowing that what she said was the unfortunate truth. When Lyra finally exited the cabin, dressed in her highwayman's outfit, the knight stepped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I may not agree with everything you've done and I might even openly disagree with your choices, but you'll never disappoint me, Lyra. Remember that," he said, his gaze locking with hers in a look so deep it shook her to the core. Several moments of intense silence passed between them before the princess, blushing, tore her eyes away from her mentor and shrugged off his hands as she grinned. "Hell, Walter, don't act like that. It's not like you at all. I'd rather have you yelling at me." Laughing, the man turned to lead the way out of the camp. "Aye. I must be getting soft in my old age," he agreed.

Upon reaching the gate, Lyra was knocked off her feet by an overly excited Boy. After he had licked her from head to toe, she managed to push the beast off and stand up with Saker's aid. "You damned mutt," she laughed, ruffling his ears. She just couldn't stay mad at him. "He bit Eric when he opened the cage. Nearly took off a few fingers," the mercenary leader said with a grin, "Now what's this you want to talk to me about?" The princess glanced at Walter apologetically as she took Saker by the arm and led him away. "I'll be right back. Won't be long," she said, waving casually. She could tell by the look of confusion and annoyance on his face that he would ask about it later, but she already had a reasonable lie to give him.

* * *

**Oh, interesting. It seems Saker is beginning to take on a sort of father figure role too, huh? Walter doesn't seem to like that one bit! Saker's like the cool step-dad that lets you get away with stuff your real dad doesn't because he wants you to like him. :P**

**Anyway, Lyra and Reaver's deal will be made clear next chapter and I will try very hard to get it up this week before I take my annual holiday trip. Also, I'm planning to write up most of the Aurora trip, specifically Crawler related stuff, but I'm thinking about fast-forwarding a bit after that, bypassing that cheap 'boss battle' Lionhead gave us and going straight to the coronation. It's not that I mind doing it, but they didn't give me a lot to work with. Run through the war-torn city, burst into the castle, have Logan give up like a wimp. Unless everyone **_**really**_** wants to see that watered-down 'battle', I'll fast-forward after Aurora as planned. ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Oh yes, I'm alive! And I'm still writing this story. :P My holiday vacation was quite refreshing, but I came out of it with inspiration for another of my stories. This one got pushed to the backburner for a bit while I worked on a different project, but I'm back on it now. This chapter is short and bland, but it's moving things towards the exciting bits, at least.**

* * *

Pulling Saker into a secluded alcove behind the guard tower, Lyra gave him a hard look. It was a sort of threat that seemed to say he had better not repeat any of what she was about to tell him to anyone. "Merv and One-Eye didn't try to take me to the castle," she began, causing him to loft a brow curiously, "They took me to Reaver. He hired them." The muscles in the man's jaw went slack and he nearly dropped his cigar. He scratched his head and asked, "Did you have to… kill Reaver?" She laughed at the thought and shook her head, guessing that was the only thing Saker could conclude since she was standing before him completely unharmed. "Nah, didn't come to that. He just wanted to make a deal. I didn't even have to thrash him first, unlike what happened with you," the princess grinned.

The mercenary's brows drew together and he took a moment to let what she said sink in. He then shrugged and leaned against the wall, taking a long drag from his cigar. "Alright, so why are you telling me this?" Lyra looked over her shoulder, ensuring Walter was still waiting by the gate, and then turned her attention back to Saker. "Expect an anonymous shipment of weapons later today. Swords, rifles, bombs. You name it. Tell your men I bought them, tell them I stole them or found them, tell them anything but the truth. Understand? Reaver's name can't be connected to it, alright? Give me your word." Narrowing his eyes at the woman, Saker nodded. "You have it," he said, "But a man who won't openly stand by his allies isn't much of an ally. Perhaps _you_ should understand _that_."

Lyra smirked, turning her back on him. "You just let me worry about the kind of man I'm dealing with. Store the crates when they arrive and don't open them until I return from Aurora. That's an order." "And what if you don't come back? What then," he asked. The princess didn't answer, unwilling to acknowledge that not making it back was a possibility. "Have the men prepared to march on Bowerstone at a moment's notice. Auroran allies or not, we storm the castle the day I return. I've waited long enough to end my brother's reign." Saker didn't press the question and seemed to understand why she chose not to respond to it. However, he caught her shoulder when she tried to leave and turned her sharply to face him. "What exactly is _he_ getting out of it? You've neglected to mention _that_, Princess."

Sucking in her lower lip, Lyra looked up at Saker in a deceivingly innocent manner. He took his hand from her shoulder and stepped back, knowing her better than that. He still had nine fingers and he preferred it to stay that way. The princess grinned at him and reached up to pinch his cheek lightly. "We don't want to spoil the surprise, now do we? You already know too much as it is. Seal those pretty lips, big boy, and I won't feel it necessary to sew them shut… Hmm," she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she turned to leave again, "That _would _be a fun way to deal with stool pigeons. Probably not as messy as cutting out a tongue and a sight easier, I'd imagine."

Once the woman was well on her way back to Walter, the mercenary leader scowled and punched the wall. How shameful it was to be afraid of a woman not even half his size! But he _was_ afraid and there wasn't a man in the camp who could blame him or boast himself any braver. Saker still didn't like it, though. There was a part of him that hoped, no, prayed that Lyra would not return from Aurora, but there was also a part of him that had grown quite attached to the wayward princess. He had been rather worried when he awoke to the frantic barking of her dog and found it caged and Lyra missing. Even though he didn't much care for taking orders from a female, she had proven herself to be a capable leader and if she took the throne there was little doubt that the Mercenary Camp would flourish due to lax laws. The princess showed little interest in protecting her people, after all.

"Did you say what you needed to? We aren't coming back here again. Not for a good long while, thank heavens," Walter said, joining his protégé as she strolled by on her way towards the exit. "I did. Are you going to ask about it now, or later?" Lyra smirked, patting her leg to signal Boy who was growling viciously at the man who had released him from the cage. Eric was still holding his bitten hand and had his back pressed snuggly against the camp's outer wall, cowering. The collie's demeanor shifted immediately upon his mistress' signal and he bounded after her with tail wagging. A doggie grin was plastered all over his furry face. He seemed nearly as glad to leave the Mercenary Camp behind as the old knight. "Ask about what? You're entitled to your secrets." Walter's response caused Lyra to stall in her tracks. Her brow furrowed slightly as she gave him a sideways glance. He merely shrugged and continued on ahead.

That, thought the princess, was very unlike Walter. She had come to expect him to be suspicious of the relationship she had with Saker. He didn't trust the Mercenary any farther than he could throw him, which due to Saker's unnatural height and muscle mass, wasn't very far at all. Why shouldn't her mentor be curious about their private conversation? Lyra had almost _wanted_ him to ask. It took all the fun out of having a secret with Saker and Reaver if no one was going to question her and give her a chance to lie about it. She gave a small 'hmph' and crossed her arms as they traveled.

In fact, curiosity threatened to drive Walter mad. His jaw went slack several times, on the verge of opening to question the princess on the matter, but he managed to quell the urge. He had come to a decision now that it was clear Lyra was not exactly the saint he had hoped for all these years. She was more than just a rebellious youth, entitled to her trials and errors, and the old knight had decided that to spare himself additional worry-spawned gray hairs, he was better off not knowing the princess' every move. After all, up until she admitted to killing Elliot, he was quite content to go on believing she would never do such a thing despite all the signs that suggested that she was more than capable of it. For now, at least, Walter would continue to shield himself, this time consciously, from Lyra's true nature. It would allow him to hold tightly to the hope that she still had time to change.

Upon reaching the Resistance's headquarters, Lyra and Walter parted ways without so much as a word. The journey from Mist Peak to Bowerstone had been made in silence and not even reaching their destination had loosened their tongues. They each had their own agendas, after all, and needed no further communication on what parts they were to play. Lyra would meet up with Ben and Walter would locate Page. From there, they would acquire a ship and make that dreaded journey to Aurora. Though she admitted to herself that after spending her life in the stuffy castle a trip across open waters to a new land seemed exciting, the princess was unsure of just how thrilling a scorched wasteland could be. Just the thought of hot winds carrying stinging sands made her mouth go dry.

"You know, Swift taught me almost everything I know about being a soldier," Ben said as they moved through the sewer tunnels, "Let's show these bastards how it's done." Lyra frowned to herself, hoping she would not need to speak of Walter so fondly anytime soon. Many things threatened to drive a wedge between them as of late, but she knew that she would be devastated if he was ever taken from her. That was one of the reasons she found working with Ben so uncomfortable. She liked him, really, but he reminded her of the emotional vulnerabilities she tried to keep suppressed. Before she met Swift and Ben, she had never really thought of Walter's mortality and just how close he may be to the end of his life. Her mother and father had been taken too soon and she hated them for it. Would she end up hating Walter too if he died?

* * *

**And there's chapter 15. I'll admit it got a little sloppy there at the end, but as always, I'm far more focused on future chapters than the ones I should be writing. After the Aurora bit, there's going to be a lot more Reaver and I've already got some pretty cool ideas for a few chapters that I think you all will like. If you like evil monarchs and naughty tycoons!**

**Anyway, next chapter will pick up right when they commandeer that ship since I don't feel like writing up a bunch of running through back alleys and fighting royal soldiers even though I do enjoy Ben's dialogue. hehe**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you all for the reviews! I wish I could spread them out on my bed and roll around in them, I love them so much. Actually, that sounds creepy. I take it back, but I still appreciate you all taking the time to review. ;P Sorry that this chapter came out late. Again. I keep getting distracted! Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this one. I think it turned out pretty good. Lots of action and a pinch of drama.**

* * *

Lyra sliced through one royal guard after another, wondering just how many of her brother's men she would have to cut down just to get one damned ship. Ben's rifle had fired so many rounds in quick succession that the barrel began to glow a dull red and she imagined his shoulder would be black and blue tomorrow from the kick. That was one reason she preferred a pistol. "You'd think these bastards would get tired of dying and bugger off!" The ex-soldier's comment made her grin, but as she opened her mouth to agree her words were swallowed up by a loud explosion from only a few yards away. The blast knocked her on her backside and even managed to singe her hair and clothing, but she was otherwise unharmed. When the smoke cleared, the king's men lay scattered and moaning. Ben and Boy finished them off while Lyra lurched to her feet and fired three shots into a corpse nearby out of anger. "Told you to mind those barrels," grinned the rifleman.

Lyra scowled at him and he threw his hands up in defense. She couldn't stay mad at him and ended up cracking a smile as she holstered her pistol. "Walter! What kept you?" The princess' eyes darted towards the now opened doorway of a nearby warehouse at Ben's surprised words. Sure enough, the old knight ambled towards them and despite his casual pace, he spoke with haste. "We have to hurry. They're going to be following us after all." Lyra's gaze shifted towards the warehouse behind him and quirked a brow upon finding it empty. Ben was quicker to ask the question she was just beginning to articulate; perhaps spurred on by his growing affection for the rebel leader. "What about Page?" "She's staying behind," he answered as they followed him towards the dock, "Someone needs to organize things here. Now, come on!"

Walter sped up as a roar of voices erupted just beyond the barrier of factories and warehouses. Royal guard reinforcements were on the way. Lyra ignored the need for urgency, however, and twisted her face into an expression of disbelief when the man stopped beside an overturned rowboat. Surely he didn't expect them to make it all the way to Aurora in _that_. "Well, it's not much, but at least if floats. That's what counts," he said, unknowingly answering the princess' silent query. Ben, obviously harboring the same feelings on Walter's choice as Lyra, moved past the old knight and approached the last remaining ship in port. "Or, you know, we could take this one and then not drown as soon as we leave port," he smirked. Chuckling, Walter nodded. "Even better. I've got a good feeling about this voyage."

His young protégé did not share the sentiment. Lyra had been hoping that Walter would also choose to stay behind with Page. Unfortunately, he was determined to come along, but she supposed she couldn't blame him. If he didn't, she was bound to offend any natives they might encounter and though Ben was quite charming in Albion, he could easily be mistaken for a buffoon anywhere else. Of course, should one ask Page, she would tell them outright just what a nuisance he was!

Boy was the first across the gangplank, followed by Ben who turned to watch his companions board. Lyra paused to inspect the ship and realized that it was one of Reaver's. Suddenly the fact that it was the only ship in port, and an unguarded one at that, seemed less convenient and more suspicious. She dismissed the thought for now and started up the plank. Ben offered the princess his hand, somehow concluding that she needed his assistance despite the dozens of men she had just killed to get to this ship. She ignored the gesture rather than berating him for the unnecessary display of chivalry. He was just trying to be helpful, after all.

Lyra heard Walter chuckle behind her and could only imagine the look of disappointment on Ben's face due to her snubbing his kindly offer. "Since when did I become so unpopular with the fairer sex, Walter? First Page, and now even our courageous leader," the man said, feigning hurt. The knight laughed again as he crossed the gangplank and patted the blonde on the shoulder. "Page and Lyra aren't exactly your typical females, now are they? You can't expect that malarkey our mothers teach us about treating women like delicate flowers to work on one that could give you a good thrashing in a fight." Walter then bent down slightly so that his next words were only audible to Ben. "Her mother was ten times worse, if you can believe _that_."

Meanwhile, as the two men went about getting the ship ready to sail and sharing their more agreeable experiences with women, Lyra made her way to the captain's quarters. If her hunch was correct, she would likely find proof of her suspicions in the cabin. Sure enough, a small bit of parchment stood out on the captain's desk. Picking it up, the princess saw only two words written neatly at the center: _You're Welcome_. She smirked and crumpled the slip of paper in her hand. Though it would certainly appear to be so, the ship was in no way a gift or a bonus to their deal. It was merely further proof of just how little faith Reaver had in her ability to succeed. He obviously felt that she needed all the help she could get. She couldn't wait to prove him wrong, but she supposed it was better to accept her idol's charity than to attempt their voyage in a shabby rowboat.

Emerging from the captain's quarters, Lyra found Walter and Ben were prepared to depart. "Alright. Let's get underway. I hope you two know what you're doing because I certainly don't know the first thing about sailing," she said, moving towards the upper deck to keep an eye out for their pursuers. "I know a thing or two. I spent some time on a ship before I met up with Swift," Ben admitted, though he didn't go so far as to say just what kind of ship it was. "Aye, and I spent a good portion of my service to the old Hero Queen in her royal fleet. Now those were the days." Walter's fond memories not only brought a warm smile to his face, but also to Lyra's. She often wondered what he was like in those days; before age mellowed him somewhat and made him into less of an adventurer and more of a strict mentor. He was always telling stories of her mother, but rarely divulged anything regarding his own life before he met up with her.

The princess didn't have long to ponder Walter's past before she spied several guards filter through the same warehouse from which the old knight had appeared. Scouts, obviously. They had probably expected a small army to be roaming the docks since so many of their comrades lay dead in the streets, but they quickly scrambled back into the building upon seeing only the three of them on the ship. "Let's move! We're about to receive one hell of a bon voyage," Lyra yelled to her companions as she took out her pistol. Ben rushed to raise the anchor and Walter took the helm. The ship slowly slipped away from the dock; they weren't going to get any real speed until Ben unfurled the sails. He had only just started when she shouted, "Here they come!"

Lyra punctuated her warning by firing into the crowd of soldiers that spilled forth from the warehouse. Rifles and swords raised, the men yelled ferociously as they bravely ran towards the ship even with the princess picking them off one by one. A bullet caught her in her right shoulder unexpectedly, but she spared nothing more than a small yelp before continuing to fire on the band of guards. Inevitably she was forced to give up her pistol in favor of something a bit more effective on large groups. Tossing the spent firearm aside, Lyra concentrated all of her Will into her gauntlets. Her left hand burst into flame while her right swirled with vortex and once she had poured sufficient Will into each, she directed the fiery tornado towards the enemy.

Wasting no time to watch her spell toss the bodies like rag dolls and burn them to a crisp, Lyra quickly forced more Will into her right hand. The swirling vortex was born anew, dancing on her palm as she spun deftly on her heel and thrust it towards the sails a mere split second after Ben had managed to free them. The gust caught in the billowing fabric, pulling it taut, and propelled the ship forward at a high velocity. All four passengers were jerked off their feet by the sudden movement as the vessel nearly bolted out from under them. "Good thinking, girl," Walter praised, struggling to reclaim the wheel with a laugh. "One more of those and we ought to be well out of reach. What d'ya say, Princess? Anything left in those magic fingers?"

Lyra nodded to Ben and got to her feet as her hand was incased in the same, swirling aura. She cringed when a pain shot through her shoulder, reminding her of the bullet lodged somewhere amid the flesh and bone. The vortex nearly ebbed, but the princess stubbornly persisted and ignored the pain. "Make it count. The second wave is readying their rifles," said Walter, griping the wheel firmly this time. Ben braced himself as well, abandoning his rifle to hug the main mast. Taking a deep breath, the princess swung her arm towards the sails one last time and then collapsed on the deck, griping her right shoulder. The ship lurched forward again, shooting out of port and into open waters. It put them well out of any rifle's range.

"Well done," the old knight said, "That gave us a damn good head start, but your brother isn't likely to give up so easily. He's got an entire fleet at his disposal and I wouldn't doubt that he'd send the whole bloody armada after us." Lyra and Ben joined him at the helm and gazed towards the horizon. "And if he does, we'll know that there really is something in Aurora he doesn't want us to find," she said, stroking Boy's head lightly. "Aye. It'll take a few hours for them to organize themselves and ready their ships, but we'd better keep watch off the stern. It'll be nearly daybreak before we even catch a glimpse of Aurora." Ben was about to comment on their current situation, namely the fact that this particular ship wasn't built for sea battles and didn't have a single cannon, when he noticed something dripping from Lyra's right hand. He followed the crimson trail up her arm and only then did he realize she had been hit.

"You'd better let me take a look at that shoulder, Princess. You're losing a lot of blood there," he said with a frown. Walter's head snapped around, his eyes widening when they fell upon her blood-soaked blouse. Lyra scowled down at the wound and tugged at the wet fabric. "It looks worse than it is," she said, fearing she was going to be treated like a child with a scuffed knee. But then something unexpected happened. The old knight's expression shifted from concern to indifference and he turned away without comment. Though that is the reaction she thought she preferred, Lyra felt strangely abandoned when her mentor hardly acknowledged the injury.

"I'm no Jasper, but I think I can remove the bullet." Ben's comment as he inspected the entrance wound pulled the princess back to reality and she tore her eyes away from Walter. "Leave it. Just sew it up and I'll be fine," she said coldly. The rifleman quirked a brow and frowned again. He took another look at the hole and shook his head. "I don't think that would be such a good idea. Especially not aboard a ship destined for foreign soil. Infection can set in quick out here…" Cringing when Ben's finger grazed an especially tender area of the wound, Lyra swatted his hands aside and stepped back. "I'll do it myself." With those words her left hand glowed red as the gauntlet absorbed her Will and she pressed the flaming digits against the damaged flesh. Her teeth ground together as the opening was seared closed, but she managed to contain a scream.

Ben stared after the princess as she sauntered into the captain's quarters and slammed the door. He then looked to Walter who kept his eyes glued on the horizon, refusing to acknowledge that anything odd had just occurred. Smirking, the soldier shook his head and moved portside to keep a lookout for any pursuing vessels. Those two were as stubborn as the day was long, but they obviously cared a great deal for one another. Ben wasn't quite sure what happened between them since the day they showed up at Mourningwood Fort, and he knew _something_ had considering these odd little tiffs they were having, but he was certain they'd work it out eventually. Maybe if he could locate some booze on board later on, he'd get them drunk and talking. Nothing like a bottle of rum to wash away any ill feelings.

* * *

**Ah, Ben. Hooch doesn't solve everything, but I suppose in this case it might. Hehe. Well, there you have it. They're well on their way to unknown shores, but Logan's armada will be dogging them every step of the way. Next chapter: cannonballs, shipwrecks, and eerie caverns galore! Onward to Aurora!**


	17. Chapter 17

**And so I've finally completed chapter 17. I think I'm getting back into the groove of turning out chapters regularly now. Hopefully I'll soon be as I was before. I **_**was**_** in the habit of being half way through writing up the next chapter whenever I would upload a new one. Now I tend to upload as soon as I finish a chapter and then take a break before even starting the next. I hate doing that. Procrastination Monster, you vile beast! Aaaanyway, thanks again for your beautiful reviews. They will continue to light a fire under my ass and make me write!**

* * *

Ben frowned when he only received a groan in response to his knock on the cabin door. At least she had managed to mutter a groggy 'come in' earlier when he brought some food for her. Lyra wasn't exactly glad to see him then, but he decided to throw caution to the wind and turned the latch. He found her lounging on the same small cot with her left arm draped across her eyes. There was some evidence that she had been up since the last time he visited, but she hardly looked capable of any movement. "Hey, hey, you weren't going to share that? And after that lovely supper of potatoes I peeled up earlier?" The man smirked as he eyed the half-empty bottle of rum griped firmly in her right hand.

Lyra made no effort to move and merely grinned. That was enough to let Ben know he wasn't in danger of a tongue lashing for his presence, or worse. "Oh, but I see you didn't bother with your share," he said, inspecting the bowl he had delivered an hour ago. It sat untouched just where he had left it on the captain's desk. The princess' expression soured, apparently sickened by the thought of eating; especially Ben's idea of a nutritious supper. She sat up with a strained moan and quickly consumed more of the alcohol to ease her pain. "I'm suffering from sleep deprivation, sea sickness, and possibly blood poisoning. Not to mention the persistent aches and pains. The last thing I want to do is eat a mess of uncooked tubers," she said, massaging her temples after sitting the bottle on the floor.

Chuckling, Ben claimed the rum for himself and hopped back before Lyra could protest. "Then let's not add a hangover to that list, Princess. You ought to start taking better care of yourself or else Walter's not going to have anyone to argue with. Now wouldn't that be a shame." Again the princess' expression darkened and she turned her gaze elsewhere. Ben dropped himself into the captain's chair and tossed his feet up on the desk as he went about finishing off what was left of the rum. "Maybe it's not my place- -" "It_ isn't_…" "But! You two seem to be at odds lately. Anything I can help with?"

The princess shook her head slowly and gently rubbed her now bandaged shoulder. She had made a mess of the job, but it was better than admitting she needed either of her companions' help in doing it. "So that's how it is, eh? You know, I'd give just about anything to have just one more disagreement with ol' Swiftie," Ben said, smiling as he picked at the label of the empty bottle, "But I'll never get that chance. And I'll never get to tell him just how much I appreciate everything he did for me. I guess I took him for granted and just assumed he'd always be there. Yeah… I thought there'd be plenty of time to tell him."

Lyra's frown deepened, this time out of sympathy. If it wasn't for his relationship with Major Swift, so like her own relationship with Walter, Ben would have been nothing more to her than a lackey to serve her purposes and help her to the throne, but he was more than that. She might even go so far as to call him her first real friend. They hadn't even spent that much time together, but she felt a connection with him that she couldn't deny. She knew he was different when, unlike just about every other man in her life, she didn't try to seduce him just to see if she could the first time they were alone together. "I'm sure… he knew," the princess mumbled, her eyes still lingering on some unimportant little detail of the cot's blanket.

The ex-soldier smiled and nodded at her words, placing the bottle atop the desk as he slid his feet off. "And I bet Walter knows he can't really call you his student anymore. You're surpassing him, but that was inevitable considering your heritage. I imagine it's just difficult for him to let go of that bond and settle into letting you take the lead. But we younger pups have to take the lead eventually, right? Of course, I suppose it makes it all the more difficult, you being a woman and all." Lyra's eyes widened and she glared towards the man, ready to give him an earful about sexism, but found him grinning like a fool. She relaxed and shook her head as he laughed. "Just making sure you were listening."

Lyra found herself smiling and feeling much better. Mentally, anyhow. Her body still felt like she'd tossed herself around in vortex all day. It wasn't often that a good talk made a difference in her mood, but Ben certainly knew all the right things to say and where to insert some humor to keep things from being too serious. Of course, the princess knew the _real_ reason Walter seemed more distant these days, but that didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. She couldn't change what she had done and, given the opportunity, she would do it again. What mattered was that Ben had at least taken her mind off the problem for now. She would have thanked him for it too, had she been given time enough to figure out how to do it without taking her clothes off, but Walter's voice interrupted their privacy.

"You two come have a look! I think we're getting close." Ben was on his feet and moving even before the old knight had finished his statement. He stopped at the door and turned to see if Lyra was coming. She was, but not without staggering back and forth a few times in an attempt to keep her balance. "You didn't even have time to get your sea legs," he chuckled, supporting her when she finally made it to his side. The princess accepted his help, but warned, "I'm a little nauseous. You may want to keep your distance." "Wouldn't be the first time a pretty lady tossed on me, trust me."

The pair moved out onto the deck, laughing at Ben's joke, and instantly spotted what the old knight wanted them to see. The sun had not yet peeked over the horizon, but the sky had brightened just enough to silhouette a large landmass in the distance. "Are you sure that's it, Walter? Well, not that there'd be much else way out here, I suppose," Lyra said, managing to stand without Ben's aid. Nodding, Walter pointed towards an especially bright cluster of stars. The Fated Son constellation, if she remembered correctly. "The Son always travels in a western direction. I've been using that to keep us headed southeast. Stars are a sailor's best friend," he explained with a wink.

Ben nudged the princess and crossed his arms smugly over his chest. "Impressive, huh? Bet they didn't teach you how to navigate by the stars during any of those fancy lessons you royals get in the castle." Lyra eyed him indignantly and mimicked his stance. "And I bet no one ever taught you how to put out your backside if it happened to catch fire _accidentally_," she smirked. The blonde held his sides and tossed his head back for a good laugh. Even Walter couldn't contain a giggle at the woman's words. "Well, no," Ben said, wiping his eye, "But I'm sure I'd figure it out right quick!"

Again, Lyra just couldn't stay mad at him. And apparently, Walter couldn't keep up his act of indifference for too long either. He reached out to pat the princess' uninjured shoulder with a warm smile; perhaps so she wouldn't be tempted to find out just how fast a learner Ben was. Lucky for him, her nausea finally got the better of her. She placed both hands on her abdomen and bent forward slightly. "Ugh… Oh, damn. Here it bloody comes," she gulped, running across to the starboard and leaning over the railing. Once the contents of her stomach had been thoroughly evacuated, Lyra sluggishly wiped her mouth and stood up straight. That was when she noticed the first ship in her peripheral vision. Her jaw went slack when, after trying to assess the threat of one vessel, she saw that it wasn't alone. "…Balls…"

Walter and Ben both looked towards the princess curiously when she muttered the knight's favorite swear. When she didn't bother to elaborate, they realized she must have seen something rather extreme and moved portside to look in their wake. "Balls…" they said in unison upon seeing the Albion Royal Armada hot on their trail. "They're coming in fast! They'll overtake us long before we find a safe place to drop anchor and go ashore," Walter said, practically leaping back into position at the helm. "Can't Lyra just conjure up some wind like before? I mean, I know you're not in the best of health, Princess, but we could really use some of that speed about now." Lyra frowned and, turning away from the daunting scene behind them, thought hard on their best plan of action. "I could do that, but… I may have a better idea."

Both men looked to her, eager for any valid plan and at a loss for one of their own. "Well… You know as well as I do that you don't send a whole damned fleet after one little ship if all you're planning to do is capture it. Logan aims to sink us out here and be done with it. So even if we made it ashore, the men on those ships are out for blood and they'll just follow us until we're dead, or at least _presumed_ dead. It wouldn't look good to any allies we might find if we showed up with an army marching on our tails." Walter nodded slowly, listening carefully to her assessment. He knew what she was getting at, but he wondered if they could pull it off. "So what do you propose? We just leap overboard and hope for the best?" Lyra smirked at Ben and, shocking him, nodded.

The princess didn't give her traveling companions time to argue or pick apart her plan. With a pat of her thigh to signal Boy, Lyra bolted and, stepping up onto the railing, jumped clear of the ship. "She's bloody mad! And so's the damned dog," Ben cried, hearing the resulting double splash. His concern, however, was not with her plan as it seemed to be their only option, but instead, he questioned Lyra's ability to swim in her current state. Walter too feared for the woman's life and his hand still lingered in the air having reached out to stop her and missed. He dropped it back to his side and, smiling, shrugged. "She _is_ a Hero, after all." Having said that, Walter followed her lead with Ben reluctantly tagging along.

The old knight nearly panicked after surfacing and not finding Lyra anywhere in sight, but as Ben plunged in after him he caught a glimpse of two figures far out ahead of the ship. Even injured, she was swimming strong and fast. "Good girl," he said quietly as he leaned forward and dug deep to propel himself through the choppy waters. "Do you think they saw us jump overboard? I'm sure they had eyes on the ship." Walter shared Ben's concern, but hoped that their plan was just foolish enough to give the armada reason to think they wouldn't make it ashore; at least not alive. "You said it, didn't you? We jump overboard and hope for the best," chuckled the knight.

Lyra wasn't sure when she lost consciousness, but the last thing she could remember was the sound of cannon fire and someone saying her name in the dark. The voice had not belonged to Walter or Ben, and though it sounded familiar, she could not place it. As she slowly came around, awakened by both her and Ben's name being bellowed by Walter, the memory of the voice faded entirely. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open and then snapped shut again. The sun had since risen and its radiance reflected painfully off the clear blue waters nearby. Lyra turned her head and tried again to take in her surroundings only to find Boy peering down at her. He had apparently stood guard over her since they crawled ashore; whenever that had been.

As Walter came into view, the collie barked to signal him. When the old knight spotted the princess and her faithful canine, he sighed in relief and made his way over as she got to her feet. "Are you alright?" Nodding, Lyra replied as she rubbed her injured shoulder. Despite exerting herself to the point of falling unconscious, her wound was fast healing and was hardly even an issue by this point. "Yes. Ben's not here?" The man frowned and shook his head. He and the rifleman had been separated in the dark and though they had kept in contact by calling to one another, Ben's signals suddenly fell silent not long after their ship was fired upon by the king's fleet. "No. Looks like we didn't all make it. I only hope…"

Walter trailed off when he saw the look on Lyra's face. Though she probably wasn't conscious of the expression, he could see the guilt evident in her eyes. It had been her bright idea to try and swim for shore, after all. "Well," the knight said, smiling reassuringly, "maybe he washed up somewhere else. I'm sure that's it." The princess nodded, though it was obvious that she wasn't convinced. She said nothing as she surveyed their foreign surroundings, but Walter knew that she was worried about Ben. He didn't like to think of the younger man losing his life to their cause any more than she did, but he couldn't help but to feel relieved that Lyra _was_ capable of showing compassion. "Anyway," he said as they set out, "The only way forward seems to be through a rather ominous cave."

* * *

**D'aw. Heart to heart with Ben! Ain't he a sweetie for trying to repair the broken bond between Walter and Lyra? Considering his mentor/protégé relationship with Major Swift, I thought it might make sense for him to feel obligated to help out his two friends.**

**I always felt that it was fitting that he and Lyra should be friends despite her cruel nature because no matter what choices you make during the game, he is always by your side there at the end, just like Walter, Jasper, and your dog. Ben's like a brother from another mother… and father… and family entirely. :P But yes, as GreyhawkGal guessed in her review, Lyra will still be Lyra. It wouldn't take much for her to turn against him, but for now, they have a nice little brother/sister thing going on. Not that she would know anything about that sort of thing considering the fact that she and her real brother would like nothing more than to kill each other.**


	18. Chapter 18

***screams* Ugh, this took far too long to write and it didn't even turn out that great. Just when I thought I would have plenty of time to start writing again, other junk flares up and keeps me from it. I apologize. I'll keep trying to get back on track, though, thanks to all of your wonderful reviews. I never expected this to be so loved by so many and I'm very glad it has went beyond some expectations from some of my readers. It has evolved into more than I initially planned. When I got the idea for an evil princess/Reaver story, I really **_**did**_** intend for it to be more about their sexual encounters *tee hee* :P, but when I started writing Lyra, giving her the personality that she has, I realized that I wanted more for her than just Reaver-licious rendezvous. And I had fun writing the other characters too. But I promise, to those of you wanting more naughty bits, there WILL be several once our little nefarious princess becomes a nefarious queen and since I'm skipping right to her coronation after they leave Aurora, it won't be long!**

* * *

Ominous, he said. Walter could not have used a better word to describe the dark, gloomy caverns he and Lyra now found themselves navigating. It was surprisingly hot and though there was air flow through the tunnels, it only carried with it more heat. It was almost as if the cave was breathing. It seemed to suck the air in only to blow it out again. Of course, despite that nearly unbearable heat, the maddening thought of being inside some giant creature's throat, and the bones of past adventurers and possibly once residents of the abandoned temple they discovered littering the path, things hadn't been so bad. That is, until they reached a second door blocked by a strange, red aura.

"Now, where have we seen that before?" Walter took out the journal he had found before their descent past the first barrier and flipped through the pages. Finding a similar passage to the first, he moved forward and cleared his throat. "Stand back. Walter the Scholar will deal with this. Hmm… with an increasing sense of trepidation, admittedly." Lyra and Boy removed themselves from the old knight's proximity, giving him room to work his 'magic'. "Luminous spirits of the sand, inhale the restless gloaming!" The aura dissipated instantly, just as it had before, and Walter turned around with a grin; he was obviously quite proud of himself.

Lyra shook her head with a grin of her own as she and Boy moved through the now opened doorway. "There you go, what can I say? I have a knack for gibberish," he chuckled as he followed. "So do I, when I'm drunk, but you don't see me brag- -" The princess' response was cut short when the red force field reappeared the moment Walter passed through the opening. They both turned to stare at it in disbelief while the collie backed away, whimpering. "Um. Do you ever get the feeling somebody's playing games with us?" Lyra nodded with a smirk. "All the time."

Walter closed the journal and returned it to his satchel. "Let's just be thankful and get through this place as quickly as we can," he said, his voice trembling just slightly. Lyra barely noticed it, but it was clear that he had only been concealing his fear so far. For a while, she actually thought he might have overcome his phobia, or at least learned to suppress it. Of course, anyone could feel uneasy in a place like that. Even Lyra felt the walls closing in around her and the shadows began to play tricks on her eyes. She only hoped that they would find a way out before her old friend became a liability and she began to suffer from his affliction as well.

They pressed on, descending yet another flight of stairs. Just as Lyra was pondering the consequences of going deeper when all of her instincts told her she should be looking for a way _up_, she saw what little light there was on the path ahead be devoured by impenetrable darkness. Walter's torch provided only a small circle of dull, orange light now, giving them no comfort when the very darkness seemed to speak. "The light you bring will die. The light inside you will die." The old knight seemed to try and look in every direction at once as he demanded that the unseen being show itself, but Lyra was frozen to the spot and she felt a prickling on the back of her neck. Memories of the nightmare she had back in the Mercenary Camp came flooding back and it was suddenly obvious who, or _what_, the voice that had called her name just before she fell unconscious earlier belonged to. "All that you are will die."

As the princess stared forward, trying to make sense of her dream and its connection to their current situation, hundreds of eyes speckled the wall of darkness. Walter's grip on the torch tightened as he took a step back. "Oh, this isn't good," he muttered. The disembodied voice chuckled wickedly, seeming to delight in their fear. "The children are here to play." A swarm of living shadows crept out of the darkness and into their small sanctuary of light. Lyra barely had time to draw her sword before the creatures were upon them, but they were surprisingly vulnerable. One swipe of her blade or one bullet from her pistol turned them into little more than wisps of smoke.

"What are they!" Walter's question was swallowed up by the screeching of the shadows as Lyra disposed of them, but she wouldn't have had an answer even if she had heard. She only knew that for the first time since leaving the castle, she was afraid of her enemy. There were no such creatures in all of Albion, not in books, tall tales, or otherwise. Perhaps balverines were more vicious and banshees harder to kill, but they were things she knew of before having to fight them herself. Her mother had fought them, as had Walter, but these shadows and their invisible puppeteer were foreign indeed.

The old knight frantically swatted at the strange things with his torch, the light seeming to cause them more pain than the princess' weapons, but no matter how many they killed, more flooded from the surrounding darkness. "There's too many of them," Walter cried, standing back to back with Lyra. Though she heard his words this time, she was still unable to form any of her own. The dream was as fresh on her mind as it was the moment she awoke from it and she wondered if perhaps the situation wouldn't be quite as frightening if she hadn't suffered that damnable premonition. The very fact that this _thing_ was worthy of such a forewarning gave her reason to be fearful.

"Do you feel the darkness swarming around you? Do you feel it creep its torturous path though your mouth, your eyes, until it eats away inside you? Tell me how it feels," said the voice behind the veil of shadows. Lyra couldn't help but believe the monster was speaking directly to her. Did it know all of her secrets, all of her sins and transgressions? Was that the _darkness_ it was referring to? Had she brought this creature upon herself and Walter, attracting it with her own inner darkness? For a moment, her willingness to fight was drained away by those thoughts and the snickering shadow imps pummeled her mercilessly, but she seemed oblivious to their blows as she sank to her knees. "Keep fighting! We have to keep fighting," the old knight yelled, his eyes widening when he saw the woman nearly consumed by the mass of thrashing creatures.

Somehow, Walter's voice got through and Lyra tensed, realizing that this was not her fight alone. One of the only people to ever stick by her side was fighting for his life right there next to her and he would surely perish if she could not clear her head. In her moment of weakness, she could have embraced her own death freely, but nothing in the world, she realized, could make her willingly embrace his. Lyra would not allow fear and doubt to be her downfall, which she now realized was the monster's primary weapons. She raised her fist as the shadows continued to beat her and then slammed it against the stony floor. Force Push rippled out from her gauntlet and knocked everything, including Walter and Boy, off their feet. "Stay down!" The old knight was confused, but followed her command as the imps struggled to stand again.

Walter held his torch across his chest like a shield as the creatures surrounded him. Their prey had chosen to remain in a vulnerable position and it seemed to confuse them for they did not descend upon him as he believed they would. Instead, they seemed wary of his decision to stay prone and crept towards him slowly. Meanwhile, Lyra had wasted no time. After forcing the enemy to the floor, thus giving herself room to work, she began concentrating enough Will into her gauntlets for a more intense push. With Walter and Boy lying flat, the princess was free to release the fully charged weave without fear of harming her allies.

With a single clap, a wave of energy laced with shards of ice erupted outwards from her body, ripping through the shadows and reducing them to little more than puffs of harmless smoke. Their small sanctuary of light now clear, Walter scrambled to his feet and returned to Lyra's side followed by Boy. They expected the darkness to spawn more of the monster's _children_ and they were ready for them, but none came forth; only familiar words that chilled the princess to the bone. "You are tainted. The stain will never wash out. The sun will never shine upon you again. Tainted… broken little toys." A small amount of light then returned to the cavern, signaling the monster's retreat; it was gone for now.

Once _it_ had departed, Lyra's body stopped shaking and the fear she experienced seemed to subside. She now understood the creature's power. It wasn't that it was some terrifying thing that she could not defeat, but it certainly made her think it was. It crept beneath her skin and into her soul, planting seeds of uncertainty and fear until she believed fighting it was futile. She knew without a doubt that had she made this journey on her own, she would have died. Only her refusal to allow Walter's death saved her. He, however, did not seem to recover even as the darkness retreated. The old knight continued to cringe at every flicker of his torch and every displaced pebble sent skittering across the cavern floor by their footsteps.

Walter seemed to sense Lyra's concerned gaze and he turned to her, putting on his most convincing smile. "It's alright. We're alright. We… we just have to keep going, that's all. We're all alright," he said, his trembling voice betraying his attempt to prove he wasn't afraid. The princess nodded with a frown and continued on without comment. It was just as she feared when they passed the second barrier. Walter's stability was deteriorating by the second and if he could not pull himself together he would likely doom them both. Even Boy appeared to sense how dire things would be should the old knight lose his mind completely and nudged his hand affectionately. The man was momentarily comforted by that small show of concern and even stopped quaking long enough to ruffle the dog's ears, but something appeared ahead in a narrow hallway that sent him right back into a shaking mess.

Eyes winked open in the darkness ahead, resembling the monster's children enough to convince Walter, but Lyra knew better. She did not feel the crushing depression it brought with it before, nor the icy fingers prickling on her neck. "More of those things!" The old knight cringed as he flailed the torch at the passing bats, until the princess reached out and gripped his arm firmly. "Bats, Walter. Bats," she said, shaking him gently. He blinked and turned to watch them disappear down the hallway before breathing a sigh of relief. "Come on, Walter," he told himself, pulling away from Lyra, "Just hold it together." As he proceeded to mumble to himself about the book he had found and the creature, his protégé began to think that the barriers they had crossed had not been placed to keep people out, but to keep the monster in.

"It won't stop," Walter said as they reached the bottom of a short staircase, "It won't stop until it kills us." The princess shook her head, deciding that talking about it would only provoke it to return. She also felt that trying to discuss it with her companion would only increase his fear, even if she tried to explain that what he was feeling was merely the lingering effects of the creature's power. He wasn't in a state to listen to reason, but she was at least thankful to be moving _up_ again. She hoped it would ease his mind as well. "Wait. I think we must be close to an exit. There's a cold breeze. Can you feel it?" She didn't. And Walter's voice was far too hopeful and desperate, but she followed swiftly when he began to run towards what he believed was a way out.

Stopping abruptly, Walter nearly caused Lyra to bump into him. She watched him with a quirked brow as he listened carefully for nearly a minute before speaking. "There's that sound again," he said, swallowing hard, "It's almost like- -" His words trailed off as a gust of hot air ripped from the doorway and extinguished their only source of light. "No! Not the light! Not the bloody light!" The princess tensed again as Walter tried desperately to ignite the torch with his bit of flint, her sword already drawn. Though her instincts instructed her to lash out blindly, common sense reminded her that doing so could see her cutting down Walter or Boy and she would not take the risk.

"Come on, work, damn it. Those things are all around us! Come on, come on, come on!" With one final, desperate strike, the old knight managed to relight his torch. Lyra relaxed as light flooded the area and revealed that the three of them were still the only occupants. Walter got to his feet, his wide eyes scouting for any danger that might have slipped up on them in the darkness. Satisfied that they were safe, he turned to apologize to Lyra for his irrational behavior and instead came face to face with a living nightmare. He was frozen to the spot and only his quick intake of breath caught the princess' attention in time for her to behold the creature as well. It was the same monster from her dream, just as she suspected, but this time it seemed more interested in Walter. However, it vanished in an instant once he regained enough of himself to move his arms and swat at it with his torch. In a flicker, it was gone.

* * *

**Well, there you have it. Not very good, I know, but like I usually say, it moves things along. Even though I don't feel particularly motivated to write some of these chapters, I also feel that some of them do need to be included anyway for character development reasons. However, I'll be skipping some here and moving right along to when Ben locates the princess 'napping'. hehe So, I'm predicting (hoping) that Chapter 19 will get all of the Aurora stuff out of the way and then I can skippity skip again and Chapter 20 will take place back in Albion with the coronation and whatnot. THEN, at last, we will see more Reaver than he can shake his stick at. And by that, I mean his cane, of course. Yes, that's what I mean. :P**


End file.
